"If I were safe at home I should think I could not walk, but I can walk
now--I can--I can--because I will bear the pain."
In such cottages there is always a door opening outside from the little
bricked kitchen, where the copper stands. She would reach that, and,
passing through, would close it behind her. After that SOMETHING would
tell her what to do--something would lead her.
She put her lame foot upon the floor, and rested some of her weight upon
it--not all. A jagged pain shot up from it through her whole side it
seemed, and, for an instant, she swayed and ground her teeth.
"That is because it is the first step," she said. "But if I am to be
killed, I will die in the open--I will die in the open."
The second and third steps brought cold sweat out upon her, but she told
herself that the fourth was not quite so unbearable, and she stiffened
her whole body, and muttered some words while she took a fifth and sixth
which carried her into the tiny back kitchen.
"Father," she said. "Father, think of me now--think of me! Rosy, love
me--love me and pray that I may come home. You--you who have died, stand
very near!"
If her father ever held her safe in his arms again--if she ever awoke
from this nightmare, it would be a thing never to let one's mind hark
back to again--to shut out of memory with iron doors.
Pages:
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897