And I
thought of Adela when I thought of the heather; and of some other woman
whom I had known, when I thought of the wells.
When I came home, I told Adela where I had been, and what a desolate place
it was. And the flush that rose on her pale cheek was just like the light
of the sunset which I had left shining over the whiteness of that snowy
region. And I said to myself: "It _is_ so. And I trust it may be well."
As I walked home, I had bethought myself of a story which I had brought
down with me in the hope of a chance of reading it, but which Adela's
illness had put out of my mind; for it was only a child's story; and
although I hoped older people might find something in it, it would have
been absurd to read it without the presence of little children. So I said
to Adela:
"Don't you know any little children in Purleybridge, Adela?"
"Oh! yes; plenty."
"Couldn't you ask some of them one night, and I would tell them a story. I
think at this season they should have a share in what is going, and I have
got one I think they would like.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39