“Oh, I’ve taken to it fairly well, thanks to my little friend Croaker here. I regard myself as a worm, and feel lowly contentment. Many a time I have thought myself dead and the sun set.” “You must be very wretched to wish yourself dead.” “Yes, the day is intensely long.” “The worm will develop.” “With a bruised head?” “It’s imagination! A second miracle, and the worm becomes a serpent.” “I would much rather remain as I am. The worm is harmless—the serpent dangerous; the one a little use—the other useless.” “And you from Lucifram!” “Ah! your mind was fixed on one particular Serpent. Defend me from it.” “You don’t look much older, Rosalie, for all your work.” “But you were tall before, and now you’re taller. You actually seem older than I, and when first I saw you I reckoned you quite ten years younger.” “Well, you’ve been burrowing in the ground. I’ve been advancing. It makes all the difference. What effect has my news had upon you?” he continued. “Oh! for a change it has made me angry.” “Has the worm turned?” “I believe it has been so long in a state of constant wriggle that one turn more or less makes little difference.” “Suppose you leave your unprofitable trade, and come away?” She took two steps forward with a thankful heart, and then a great stubbornness rose within her. She shook her head. “I won’t go yet,” she said. “It would be giving up too early. I have pleased God, and by God’s grace I’ll please man, and if man is not to be pleased by God’s grace, what is it that can please him?” “That is a question for my father. I should not like to say. What do you intend to do here now?” “Dig again. Begin to-day. There is no frost, and the ground is soft and loose.” “Is that the message I’m to return?” “I can think of no other. It was good of you to bring the news to me.” “I thought it very ill. I never delivered an unpleasant message in my life before, and did it just for practice. I had much rather have told you the other thing.” “Your face was very expressive of sorrow when you came to me.” “I’m glad. I imagined my countenance was too smiling.” She laughed. “Never look sad on my account. I have no wish to forfeit your company for a sad mask. Indeed, I counted it a very great kindness your coming to me at all.” “Truly, Rosalie, you are improving. I think you must be growing older.” “I’ve forgotten my age. It’s a thing women never remember. Years were a form of imaginative punishment invented by the devil. Some folks are sensitive about them.” “When you have finished this, will you bring it to my father?” “Most certainly; who else could I take it to?” “He has brought you little luck.” “It’s a word I should never use in connection with him.” “Well, I will leave you, and may you be prosperous. I don’t know what else I can say, except that you will forgive me for the news I brought.” So saying, he turned about, and went away again. And the old work began once more.