ched so as to appear almost colorless, yet there was little
discomposure in his voice--"but cursin' him ain't a goin' to help us now.
When a thing that's allays been precious to us has once fell, we can't
never make it quite like it was afore, but we can keep care on't patient,
a waitin' God Almighty's time to make it whole. I know what folks say. I
know, but I don't keer. She ain't no less precious to me, now, than she
was afore, only it's more for her, now, maybe, and less for myself. And
she sees, now. She does keer for me, now. Ay, I know what they'll say,
but they don't know that girl as well as I do, teacher. They ain't
nothin' would 'a' wrung them words from her ef they hadn't 'a' be'n true;
no, not ef it had been savin' her life to say 'em. She does keer, now,
but she won't never take me now, she says, because it 'ud be wrongin' me;
and I might 'a' knowed what she'd 'a' said, what it was nateral and noble
for her to say.
"But," continued George Olver, with a flash of magnificent fire in his
eyes, and thrusting his arm out straight; "what's right atween me and my
God needn't be afeard o' no man's face! I want to take that girl and keer
for her, and keep her from meddlin' tongues. Let 'em say what they choose
to me; they must be keerful what they say afore her, that's all.
"I've waited a good while. I could bide my time, but not now, when she's
heart broke and sufferin', and nobody ter put out a hand to help her.
There's be'n a look on her face, lately, that I don't like to see. It's
afore my eyes all the time, and it werries me night and day--as though
she didn't hold herself o' no account, and might make away wi' herself.
"Teacher, you've got a woman's heart, and you can save that other woman!
It's a task that they needn't nobody be ashamed on, for the Lord Jesus
himself set the example. I guess she thinks you've turned agin her, too,
but I knew that couldn't be, for no friend 'ud leave another when they
was perishin', not even if they was more to fault than she was; and she
was apt to mind ye more than any one. I thought if you'd go in and speak
to her as a woman could, and tell her she'd got a right to hope, and tell
her her friends would not forsake her, least of all would it be likely
God would forsake her, and tell her--"
George Olver seemed both to be looking at me and beyond me with his
beautiful, brave eyes; "Tell her thar's somebody that don't find any
cause to be sorry for havin' loved her, but k
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