ful in his life, but this
looks a little like spite. Perhaps he only wanted to save his
self-respect and let people know, that everything between you was
over forever. Perhaps he thought it would stop talk once and for
all. But you won't mind, you lucky girl, staying nearly three months
in Boston! [So Almira purled on in violet ink, with shaded letters.]
How I wish it had come my way, though I'm not good at rubbing
rheumatic patients, even when they are his aunt. Is he as devoted as
ever? And when will it be? How do you like the theatre? Mother
thinks you won't attend; but, by what he used to say, I am sure
church members in Boston always go to amusements.
"Your loving friend,
"Almira Shapley.
"P.S. They say Rufus's doctor's bills here, and the operation and
hospital expenses in Portland, will mount up to five hundred
dollars. Of course Stephen will be dreadfully hampered by the loss
of his barn, and maybe he wants to let your house that was to be,
because he really needs money. In that case the dooryard won't be
very attractive to tenants, with corn planted right up to the steps
and no path left! It's two feet tall now, and by August (just when
you were intending to move in) it will hide the front windows. Not
that you'll care, with a diamond on your engagement finger!"
The letter was more than flesh and blood could stand, and Rose flung
herself on her bed to think and regret and repent, and, if possible, to
sob herself to sleep.
She knew now that she had never admired and respected Stephen so much as
at the moment when, under the reproach of his eyes, she had given him
back his ring. When she left Edgewood and parted with him forever she
had really loved him better than when she had promised to marry him.
Claude Merrill, on his native Boston heath, did not appear the romantic,
inspiring figure he had once been in her eyes. A week ago she distrusted
him; to-night she despised him.
What had happened to Rose was the dilation of her vision. She saw
things under a wider sky and in a clearer light. Above all, her heart
was wrung with pity for Stephen--Stephen, with no comforting woman's
hand to help him in his sore trouble; Stephen, bearing his losses alone,
his burdens and anxieties alone, his nursing and daily work alone. Oh,
how she felt h
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