Part 139 (1/2)
Her sleep was sound this time. The body a.s.serted its rights; and long, long she lay still upon her moss pillow, while the regular deep-drawn breath came and went, fetching slow supplies of strength and refreshment. The sun quitted its overhead position and dipped towards Wut-a-qut-o, behind the high brow of which, in summer-time, it used to hide itself. A slant ray found an opening in the thick tree-tops, and shone full upon Elizabeth's face; but it failed to rouse her; and it soon went up higher and touched a little song sparrow that was twittering in a cedar tree close by. Then the shadows of the trees fell long over the gra.s.s towards the rocks on the east.
Elizabeth was awakened at last by a familiar adjuration.
”Miss 'Lizabeth! -- you'll catch a Typhus, or an agur, or somethin' dreadful, down there! Don't ye want to live no more in the world?”
Elizabeth sat up, and rested her face on her knees, feeling giddy and sick.
”Don't ye feel bad?”
”Hush, Clam! --”
”I'm sent after ye,” said Clam, -- ”I dursn't hush. Folks thinks it is time you was back in the house.”
”Hus.h.!.+ -- I don't care what folks think.”
”Not what _n.o.body_ thinks?” said Clam.
”What do you mean!” said Elizabeth flas.h.i.+ng round upon her.
”Go back into the house. -- I will come when I am ready.”
”You're ready now,” said Clam. ”Miss 'Lizabeth, ye ain't fit for anything, for want of eatin'. Come! -- they want ye.”
”Not much,” -- thought Elizabeth bitterly, -- ”if they left it to her to bring me in.”
”Are you sick, Miss 'Lizabeth?”
”No.”
”He's come home,” Clam went on; -- ”and you never saw the things he has brought! Him and me's been puttin' 'em up and down. Lots o' things. Ain't he a man!”
”'Up and down!'” repeated Elizabeth.
”Egg-zackly,” -- said Clam; -- ”Floor-spreads -- what-d'ye- call'ems? -- and bedsteads -- and chairs. He said if he'd know'd the house was all stripped, he'd never have fetched you up here.”
”Yes he would,” said Elizabeth. ”What do I care for a stripped house!” -- ”with a stripped heart,” her thought finished it.
”Well don't you care for supper neither? -- for that old thing is a fixin' it,” said Clam.
”You must not call her names to me.”
”Ain't she old?” said Clam.
”She is a very good old woman, I believe.”
”Ain't you comin' Miss 'Lizabeth? They won't sit down without you.”
”Who sent you out here?”
”Karen axed where you was; and Mrs. Nettley said she dursn't go look for you; and Mr. Landholm said I was to come and bring you in.”