Mountain life -- Tennessee -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“Quit it!” his wife admonished the girl, who passed her hand over her
face as if seeking to obliterate the obnoxious expression. “Ye go right
up-steers ter bed. I’m goin’ ter gin ye some yerb tea.”
She took down a small bag, turning from it some dried leaves into her
hand, and looked at them mysteriously, as if she were about to conjure
with them.
The girl rose obediently, and went up the rude, uncovered stairs to the
roof-room. After an interval Mrs. Jessup observed the babbling baby
pointing upward. Among the shadows half-way up the flight Alethea was
sitting on a step, looking down vacantly at them. But upon their sudden
outcry she seemed to rouse herself, rose, and disappeared above.
XIX.
Gwinnan, upon recovering consciousness, showed no retrospective interest
in the scene at the depot. He remarked imperatively to the physician whom
he found in attendance that it was necessary for him to leave during
the afternoon,—in fact, as soon as possible,—to hold court in a distant
county. He added, for the instruction of the doctor, that the clerk could
open court, and had no doubt done so on Monday and Tuesday, and would
be obliged to repeat this on Wednesday, without the presence of the
presiding judge, but Thursday was the last day for which the statute had
provided the alternative. He evidently expected that if the physician had
any flimsy objections he would withdraw them before this grave necessity,
understanding that this was no time for the indulgence of professional
whimseys.
There was something so arrogantly disregardful of any other claims upon
his attention, so belittling of merely corporeal considerations, that the
physician would have been a little less than medical had he been able
to repress a certain sense of domination as he answered, “Well, that
happened more than two weeks ago, judge, and I reckon court was adjourned
over to the next term.”
Gwinnan became aware with a sort of amaze that the hands he lifted did
not seem his own; that his head was light and giddy, or dully aching;
that he was fretful and helpless; that no manner of respect was paid to
his views. He was hardly pleased by the exchange of identity with this
ill-adjusted, listless, forlorn being; the less when he finally grew able
to stand upon his feet again, and was informed that for the next month
or so he must do nothing but seek to interest and entertain the invalid,
to see that he forbore to dwell on business, to seek to occupy his
attention with passing events, to divert him with trifles.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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