Part 7 (2/2)
”I didn't say you were sick. But you are in an advanced stage of _arthritis deformans_ of the soul. The whole town's got it!”
The doctor tramped up and down the little room, freeing her mind.
”I never saw such bed-ridden intellects in my life! I suppose it was so when I was a child--and I was too young to notice it. But surely it's worse now. The world goes faster and faster every day, the people who keep still get farther behind! I'm fond of you, Rella. You've got an intellect, and a conscience, and a will--a will like iron. But you spend most of your strength in keeping yourself down. Now, do wake up and use it to break loose! You don't have to stay here. Come out to Colorado with me--and Grow.”
Miss Elder moved uneasily in her chair. She laid her small embroidery hoop on the table, and straightened out the loose threads of silk, the doctor watching her impatiently.
”I'm too old,” she said at length.
Jane Bellair laughed aloud, shortly.
”Old!” she cried. ”You're five years younger than I am. You're only thirty-six! Old! Why, child, your life's before you--to make.”
”You don't realize, Jane. You struck out for yourself so young--and you've grown up out there--it seems to be so different--there.”
”It is. People aren't afraid to move. What have you got here you so hate to leave, Rella?”
”Why, it's--Home.”
”Yes. It's home--now. Are you happy in it?”
”I'm--contented.”
”Don't you deceive yourself, Rella. You are not contented--not by a long chalk. You are doing your duty as you see it; and you've kept yourself down so long you've almost lost the power of motion. I'm trying to galvanize you awake--and I mean to do it.”
”You might as well sit down while you're doing it, anyway,” Miss Elder suggested meekly.
Dr. Bellair sat down, selecting a formidable fiddle-backed chair, the unflinching determination of its widely-placed feet being repeated by her own square toes. She placed herself in front of her friend and leaned forward, elbows on knees, her strong, intelligent hands clasped loosely.
”What have you got to look forward to, Rella?”
”I want to see Susie happily married--”
”I said _you_--not Susie.”
”Oh--me? Why, I hope some day Morton will come back----”
”I said _you_--not Morton.”
”Why I--you know I have friends, Jane--and neighbors. And some day, perhaps--I mean to go abroad.”
”Are you scolding Aunt Rella again, Dr. Bellair. I won't stand it.”
Pretty Susie stood in the door smiling.
”Come and help me then,” the doctor said, ”and it won't sound so much like scolding.”
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