Mrs. MacGregor's eyes were cold and merciless as those of a snake
watching its victim. She thought long before speaking. She was conscious
that there was danger in handling for one's own purposes a mind so
feeble and hesitating as Amy's, but she must make the attempt. Should
she rest content with having instilled the subtle poison in Amy's mind,
leaving it to work slowly to a doubtful end? Could she be sure that it
would do its work? On the other hand, to one of Amy's mental caliber,
would the plain, brutal statement, stripped of ambiguity, be more than a
suggestion? In this latter course there lay the danger that Amy would
grasp the full import of her words and that in the mental agony that
would surely follow, she would go to Elijah at once. Would she go to
Elijah? Mrs. MacGregor felt sure that she would not. Weak as Amy was,
she would intuitively feel the hopelessness of an appeal to him. Already
she was vaguely conscious that her hold upon him was slight, how slight
she would not dare to put to the test. She would not openly acknowledge
this fear to herself, much less to others, least of all to Elijah. She
had a fixed purpose in her mind, to fit herself to take Helen's place
and upon its success she had staked all. To abandon her secret efforts
would leave her again wandering, wavering, to go over the whole weary
ground again. Mrs. MacGregor made her decision. Her voice was modulated,
almost sympathetic, but it was firm and decided.
"No, Amy, he has not done enough. You have not done enough. He must go
on. He must give you up. You must give him up."
Amy sprang from her chair. Her work slipped from her lap and lay huddled
at her feet. Slowly, painfully, the meaning of Mrs. MacGregor's words
was boring into her brain. Her eyes were wide open, pitifully pleading,
like the eyes of a shrinking victim in the clutch of a beast of prey.
Then they changed to a look as hard and resolute as her eyes were
capable of expressing.
"Give up Elijah! I'll never give up Elijah. Never! Never! Never!" Then
she fled through the open door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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