And to this meager explanation she stubbornly adhered, through
subsequent soul-searching conversations with her mother, and during the
years of married life that followed. In time she came to believe it,
herself; and the “little misunderstanding with Wesley” and its romantic
dénouement became a well-remembered milestone, wreathed with sentiment.
But poised triumphant on this pinnacle of joy, she yet had time to
think of another than herself.
“Jim,” said she, a touch of matronly authority already apparent in her
manner. “I’ve wanted for a long time to talk to you seriously about
Ellen.”
Jim stared.
“About Ellen?” he repeated.
“Jim, she’s awfully fond of you. I think you’ve treated her cruelly.”
“Look here, Fan,” said Jim, “don’t you worry yourself about Ellen Dix.
She’s not in love with me, and never was.”
Having thus spoken, Jim would not say another word. He gulped down his
supper and was off. He kissed Fanny when he went.
“Hope you’ll be happy, and all that,” he told her rather awkwardly.
Fanny looked after him swinging down the road. “I guess it’s all right
between him and Ellen,” she thought.
Chapter XXV.
Jim had no definite plan as he tramped down the road in the falling
darkness. He felt uncertain and miserable as he speculated with regard
to Lydia. She could not guess at half the unkind things people must be
saying; but she would ask for the bread of sympathy and they would give
her a stone. He wished he might carry her away, shielding her and
comforting her against the storm. He knew he would willingly give his
life to make her happier. Of course she did not care for him. How could
she? Who was he—Jim Dodge—to aspire to a girl like Lydia?
The wind had risen again and was driving dark masses of cloud across
the sky; in the west a sullen red flared up from behind the hills,
touching the lower edges of the vaporous mountains with purple. In a
small, clear space above the red hung the silver sickle of the new
moon, and near it shone a single star.... Lydia was like that star, he
told himself—as wonderful, as remote.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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