Part 39 (2/2)
The awful agony of the first clod, falling with hollow sound, the tearing rush of memory, the gasp of the heart, missing a beat! The widow fell senseless at the grave, and they took her away, the daughter sobbing over her. Yes, they all took him seriously now.
”It does seem that he could have done something,” said Steve Hardy, waiting for Milford outside the graveyard.
”He did,” Milford replied.
”I mean--you know what I mean. I don't see how a man can give up that way. Seems to me like I'd fight till the last.”
”Yes, but that man was more of a hero than you could ever be. He saw that he could not keep up his insurance, and he decided that it was better to die.”
”I understand that the widow'll get ten thousand.”
”Yes, the community is very quick to understand that point.”
”I was talkin' to a lawyer, and he said that they couldn't keep her out of the money. The courts have decided that the money in such cases has to be paid.”
”He understood it, too, or he wouldn't have drowned himself.”
”I guess so. Well, you never can tell what a man may do. You form your idea of him and find out afterwards that it was all wrong. But it would be a cold day when I'd kill myself for anybody. I hear you're goin' to have a sale at your house.”
”Yes, I don't care to stay here any longer.”
”Every man to his own taste, but you can't find a puttier country. I guess this community right here s.h.i.+ps more milk that any section along the road. But they say that when a man once lives away out in the West he always has a likin' for it. Well, I'll be over there on the day of the sale.”
Milford sold all of his belongings, with the exception of some tools, a cow, and a loft full of cattle-feed which he gave to the hired man. He was not quite ready to go, but would remain a few days and perhaps a week longer. He was waiting for a letter, and he searched the newspapers every day. Mrs. Stuvic demanded that he should spend the remaining time at her house. She was sorry to lose him. She had confessed that she was half afraid of him, and this feeling had endeared him to her.
”What makes you grab after the newspaper so?” she asked one morning, in the dining-room.
”I want to know the news.”
”No, you don't; there's somethin' else. You've sold all your stuff and can't be interested in the markets.”
”I am looking for Western news. I want to keep track of a certain man.”
”Who was that letter from you got this mornin'?”
”From her.”
”Where is she?”
”In the city.”
”Has she quit her school?”
”She's given it up as a failure.”
”Then you'll be goin' to town soon.”
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