Part 61 (1/2)
”Am I wrong when I fancy that one is, that the house belongs to one from whom you would not endure an obligation?”
”You put it too harshly, sir; but in truth I do not like obligations.”
”You would incur none, then, let me a.s.sure you, by remaining here. The house will be unoccupied; I should be glad to have some one in it, and there is, I fear, little chance of having the parish permanently suited with a clergyman before fall, and even after that, there is no necessity of retaining this as a parsonage; there are one or two houses nearer the church, which would, indeed, be more convenient.”
”Thank you, sir, but it will be impossible. You do not estimate the difficulties. I cannot stay here: and perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me what to do about the arrangement of the books. Shall they be packed, or are they to remain on the shelves? And here, sir, is the key of the private drawers in that book-case, that I was to give you when you came.”
My voice faltered as I delivered my kind friend's last message. There was a long pause, then Mr. Rutledge said:
”These things are very trying to you now; there is no need that you should distress yourself by attending to them at once. Leave them till later.”
”No, sir, it is better that they should be all arranged before you go. I do not mind the effort of undertaking it at once.”
”But how do you know I am going? Why will not a few weeks hence do as well?”
”Why, sir, as I told you, I should prefer that everything were settled, the papers arranged, the house vacated, before you go abroad. It may make no difference, but it will be more agreeable to me.”
”I am not going abroad; I do not intend to leave America again. Can you not be contented to let things rest as they are at present, and to let me, in some degree, take the place of him you have lost? Consider, you are homeless and friendless--you have no one to direct or guide you”----
”I have considered this, sir, more fully, perhaps, than you have. There is not a circ.u.mstance in my fate that I have not weighed. Indeed, I do not need so much pity; your attention has just been called to it, and so it sounds new and dreadful to you for a woman to be left so alone. But I am used to the idea, and I do not mind it. People will be kind to me, no doubt, and I shall do very well.”
”Then you are resolved to go away from here?”
”Within a fortnight, sir.”
”And you refuse all offers of a.s.sistance from me, of all kinds?”
”Why, sir, you know it would be useless to trouble you, when I do not need any; but I hope you understand that I am very grateful for your goodness.”
”I understand it fully, and that you decline any further demonstration of it. But if you have no scruple against telling me where you intend to go, perhaps it would be wiser to do it, as some cases may occur which you cannot foresee, in which it would be safer for you to have the judgment and advice of one whose age and experience place him above you in knowledge, of the world, at least.”
”It would be impossible for me to tell you, sir, for I do not know in the least where I shall go. You know I have not had time to arrange my plans definitely--it is only two days--since--since--I have had to think about them.”