I left her sitting at
her favorite window, and walked out into the fields. I wanted to
think.
I remained out until I saw lights in the parlor shining through the
dusky evening; then I returned slowly. As I passed the windows--
which were near the ground, our house being cottage-built--I looked
in. Hammond Brake was sitting with my wife. She was sitting in a
rocking chair opposite to him, holding a small volume open on her
lap. Brake was talking to her very earnestly, and she was
listening to him with an expression I had never before seen on her
countenance. Awe, fear, and admiration were all blent together in
those dilating eyes. She seemed absorbed, body and soul, in what
this man said. I shuddered at the sight. A vague terror seized
upon me; I hastened into the house. As I entered the room rather
suddenly, my wife started and hastily concealed the little volume
that lay on her lap in one of her wide pockets. As she did so, a
loose leaf escaped from the volume and slowly fluttered to the
floor unobserved by either her or her companion. But I had my eye
upon it.
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