At times she
scarcely appeared to hear what I said, so deep would be her
reverie. Nor did those moods seem pleasant ones. When rapt in
such, her sweet features would contract, as if in a hopeless effort
to solve some mysterious problem. A sad pain, as it were, quivered
in her white, drooped eyelids. One thing I particularly remarked:
SHE SPENT HOURS AT A TIME GAZING AT THE WEST. There was a small
room in our house whose windows, every evening, flamed with the red
light of the setting sun. Here Elsie would sit and gaze westward,
so motionless and entranced that it seemed as if her soul was going
down with the day. Her conduct to me was curiously varied. She
apparently loved me very much, yet there were times when she
absolutely avoided me. I have seen her strolling through the
fields, and left the house with the intention of joining her, but
the moment she caught sight of me approaching she has fled into the
neighboring copse, with so evident a wish to avoid me that it would
have been absolutely cruel to follow.
Once or twice the old jealousy of Hammond Brake crossed my mind,
but I was obliged to dismiss it as a frivolous suspicion.
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