But she
remained as still and tearless as the great round face upon the
clock.
At last, in a lull of crying, she said,--not exactly questioning, but
as if partly to herself -
"You loved him, then?"
"Loved him! he was my husband! He was the father of three bonny
bairns that lie dead in Grasmere churchyard. I wish you'd go, Susan
Dixon, and let me weep without your watching me! I wish you'd never
come near the place."
"Alas! alas! it would not have brought him to life. I would have
laid down my own to save his. My life has been so very sad! No one
would have cared if I had died. Alas! alas!"
The tone in which she said this was so utterly mournful and
despairing that it awed Nelly into quiet for a time. But by-and-by
she said, "I would not turn a dog out to do it harm; but the night is
clear, and Tommy shall guide you to the Red Cow. But, oh, I want to
be alone! If you'll come back to-morrow, I'll be better, and I'll
hear all, and thank you for every kindness you have shown him,--and I
do believe you've showed him kindness,--though I don't know why."
Susan moved heavily and strangely.
She said something--her words came thick and unintelligible. She had
had a paralytic stroke since she had last spoken.
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