There was no one there whom she cared to see; nothing there that she
cared to do. A written slip naming her necessities went in Jason’s
pocket on his trips to town on business connected with the grocery or
conveniences necessary for his farm work. She found, after a few months
of experience of living with the woman who was herself, that a mark had
been set upon her, literally burned into her brain, her heart, and her
soul,—a mark that never could be effaced. The other doors and windows of
the house stood wide open. The front door was always closed, always
locked. She found, too, that if, while she sat by an open window sewing
or under the trees of the dooryard, she heard the rattle of wheels and
saw a face she recognized, she arose and on winged feet put herself out
of hearing in case any one should knock upon her door, so that she would
not be forced to open it and face them.
There were times when she deliberately tried to determine what she
thought and felt concerning Jason, but her brain was still in such
tumult that she could not be definite even with herself. Life had
narrowed her proposition to the one fact that he was everything that she
had left of her old life. She could not look at any beloved possession
that had belonged to her father and her mother without the knowledge
that, save for him, she would have been denied even this poor
consolation from life. She could not move through the small home that in
her heart she soon grew almost to worship without the knowledge that she
owed to him her joy in having it to live in so soon. As she tried to
think things out, it appealed to Mahala that the time had passed in
which she could spend even a thought on remembering the days of his
youth. She herself had been stripped to the bone. She had lost
everything but her respect for herself. Every material comfort she had,
she owed to him. Slowly in her heart there began to take form the
decision that whatever there was of her personality, of her life,
belonged to Jason if he wanted it. If there was any way in which he
cared to use it, it was for him to say what he desired.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account