College teachers -- Fiction; Interpersonal relations -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Thomasina sat with her hand covering her eyes. Suddenly she took it away
and looked sharply at Mary Alcestis.
"This isn't the time to cry!"
"You cannot understand," sobbed Mary Alcestis.
"Can I not?" said Thomasina softly.
Mrs. Lister looked at Thomasina; then she crossed the room and sat down
beside her.
"You said I was a fool, Thomasina. I was just that." She stared at
Thomasina as though she saw her now for the first time. She did not even
know the moment when Dr. Green left them to themselves.
The college clock struck eleven as Dr. Green went through the campus
gate. But he did not go home, even though that was a late hour for
Waltonville. He went across the town to the little gray house where the
light still burned in the dining-room. When he walked in, Mrs. Bent
looked up at him helplessly.
"I am trying to talk to her. I tell her that both of us was wrong. I was
too much for gayety and going, and I didn't appreciate learning. But I
appreciate learning now. I didn't know I should come to be ashamed."
Eleanor's face looked frozen.
"You kill me, mother, when you talk about being ashamed. I'm never
ashamed of you. I don't see why we need to talk about it. Let it go."
"He was always kind to you," said Mrs. Bent. "Your books he gave you and
your pie-anna and even your name that you like so well and your learning
and you get your mind from him, and--"
"They are all hers by right," said Dr. Green.
"And he might go somewheres else and be a great doctor. I heard people
say it often. I was hard to get along with," sobbed Mrs. Bent. "And I
was afraid you would grow up ashamed of me. Oh, I done wrong!"
Still Eleanor said nothing.
"Do not make it harder for us than you must, my dear," said Dr. Green at
last. "There have been some matters I didn't give heed to because I
wanted you to come to something. I didn't know you had a question in
your mind. I am more ambitious for you than I was for myself. An early
and unconsidered marriage like your mother's and mine--"
Now Eleanor lifted her head.
"Oh! oh! oh!" she cried as Mrs. Lister had cried.
"What is it?" asked Dr. Green. "Let us be entirely frank with one
another."
"I did not understand that you had _married_ my mother!" cried Eleanor.
"Oh, I think you have been wrong and foolish and wicked, not so much to
me as to one another!"
At midnight, when Dr. Green went out the little gate, he saw a dark
figure in the shadow. It did not frighten or surprise him.
"Well, Richard?"
"I'm not going in. I wanted just a glimpse of her, that was all. I can't
stand seeing her and talking to her and then having to come away."
"You have had your glimpse?"
"Yes. I'm fortified till the morning." Without further confidences,
Richard took the first short cut that offered.
CHAPTER XXVII
EPILOGUE
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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