|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 79
Within herself Ellen understood the truth, which she had long ago
guessed. And with it came a fresh revelation. This was the reason why Amy
Mathewson could see, unmoved, the departure of Leaver, who had been so
closely thrown with her all that strange summer. With the deep loyalty of
a few rare natures, having once given her love, even though she received
nothing but friendship in return, she could care for no future which did
not include that friendship, dearer than the love of other men.
Ellen was still in the office, held there by a curious fascination of
interest in Amy's rapid, skillful preparations. It meant so much, this
operating at a country house, she explained to Ellen. It meant the
working out of all manner of difficult details, that the final conditions
might as closely as possible resemble those which were to be had, ready
to hand, in the operating-room of any hospital.
"It's a serious handicap to a surgeon's best work," she asserted, "when
he has to do it at a home. With all my precautions, I can never feel so
sure of giving him perfect cleanliness of surroundings."
"You can, if any one can," Ellen said, feeling for the first time as she
spoke, a curious little twinge of envy of the one whom her husband had
long called, with affectionate familiarity, his "right-hand man."
Often as she had seen the two drive away together it seemed to her to-day
that she looked at them with new eyes. Just as Amy set out the closed
hand-bags, with a box and a bundle beside them, and donned hat and
driving-coat, the Green Imp came rushing up the road and stopped in front
of the house. Burns ran in, fired half a dozen rapid questions at Amy,
nodding his head with approval at her answers, said, "All right, we're
off," and picked up the hand-bags. Then he dropped them, snatched off his
cap and strode over to his wife.
"We're in a mess of a hurry," he apologized, and kissed her as if he were
thinking of something else, as he undoubtedly was. Then he seized the
bags, Amy the box and bundle, and the two hurried out. A moment later
Ellen saw the car start, getting under headway in twice its own length,
and disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust.
"She would rather stay where she can help him than go away to a home of
her own with any other man," Ellen said to herself; and the little twinge
of envy became almost a pang. She stood staring out of the window, her
dark eyes heavy with her thoughts, her lips taking on a little twist of
pain. Then, presently, she lifted her head. "She will never, never let
him know. He will never discover it for himself. But if she can find
happiness in being of use to him, and he can reward her by being her good
friend, why should I mind? Can't I be generous enough for that, when I
know I have his heart? Her love for him won't hurt him. She can't take it
back, but she will never let it show so that he can feel more of it than
is good for him. It is so little for me to spare her--so much for her to
have. I will be glad, I _will_ be glad!"
She smiled at Bobby Burns, running up the walk, but, being a woman, she
smiled through tears.
The little lad ran in. "Oh, Auntie Ellen," he cried, "do you care 'cause
I gave my new ball away? It was a new boy came to school, all patched.
He'd never had a ball in his life. Uncle Red said I had to be good to
other boys, 'cause I've got so much more'n some of them. I sort o' wanted
to keep the ball, too," he added, regretfully. "It was a dandy ball."
"But it was nice to give it away, too, wasn't it, Bob?"
He nodded, looking curiously up at her. "You're cryin', Auntie Ellen," he
said, anxiously. "Does sumpin' hurt you?"
"Nothing that ought to hurt, dear. It's too bad that being generous does
hurt sometimes. But it ought not to hurt, when we have so much more than
some of the others, ought it, Bob?"
CHAPTER XV
FLASHLIGHTS
"Please tilt your parasol back the least bit more, Miss Austin. That's
it! Now walk toward me, up this path, till you reach the rosebush."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|