File:Dr. Lavendar's people (1903) (14595767007).jpg

Identifier: drlavendarspeopl00dela (find matches)
Title: Dr. Lavendar's people
Year: 1903 (1900s)
Authors: Deland, Margaret Wade Campbell, 1857-1945
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, London, Harper and Brothers
Contributing Library: Boston Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Public Library

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judge. Good-night. She opened the door, and then lookedat the child, seated, speechless, with blank eyes^on the edge of the bed. Good-night, Alice.I—Im sorry for you, poor girl! and she cameback hastily and kissed her. At that, even in her daze of horror, a glimmerof astonishment came into Alices face. But shedid not look up or speak. When it grew dark,she began mechanically to get ready for bed;she knelt down, as usual, at the big chintz-covered winged chair and began to say herprayers, her mind blind as to her own words: Bless dear father— Then she cried out, sud-denly and dreadfully, and covered her poor,shamed head with her arms, and prayed no more.Then came a long fit of crying, and then adreary calm. Afterwards, as the night shut inwith rain and rumble of thunder, the shamelightened a little, for,though she could not read itin the darkness, she held Lutes little note againsther lips and kissed it, and cried over it, and saidhis words over to herself, and felt that at any 296
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ii SHE KNELT DOWN, AS USUAL, AT THE BIGCHINTZ-COVERED WINGED CHAIR EXCEEDING HIGH MOUNTAIN rate there was one bright spot in it all: Lutewould never have any more anxieties. Of RobertGray she thought pitifully, but with not muchunderstanding. Oh, dreadful, dreadful! Buthe had loved his wife so much (so the childthought) he would surely forgive her. Notknowing how little forgiveness counts for whena star goes out. Sometimes, sitting there onthe floor, listening to the rain, she slept; thenwoke, with a numb wonder, which darkened intocruel understanding. Shame; shame—but Lutewouldnt be worried any more; Lute would berich. So the night passed. . . . Rebecca Gray did not sleep. When the housewas still she went up-stairs, eager to be alone.She shut her bedroom door softly; then sheput her brass candlestick on the high bureauand looked about her. . . . Everything seemedstrange. Here was her old-fashioned bed withits four mahogany posts like four slenderobelisks; there was the fine darn in

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