At last Keziah could stand it no longer.She determined to go to him.She climbed the steep stairs and rapped on the door of his room.
Yes?she heard him say.
It's me,was the reply.Mr.Ellery,can I come in?I know you want to be alone,but I don't think you'd ought to be,too much.
I'd like to talk with you a few minutes;may I?A moment passed before he told her to enter.He was sitting in a chair by the window,dressed just as he had been when she returned from the tavern.She looked sharply at his face as it was turned toward her.His eyes were dry and in them was an expression so hopeless and dreary that the tears started to her own.
John,she said,I couldn't bear to think of your facin'it alone up here.I just had to come.He smiled,and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes.
Face it?he repeated.Well,Mrs.Coffin,I must face it,Isuppose.I've been facing it ever since--since I knew.And I find it no easier.John,what are you goin'to do?
He shook his head.I don't know,he said.Go away somewhere,first of all,I guess.Go somewhere and--and try to live it down.
I can't,of course,but I must try.
Go away?Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?Did you suppose I could stay here?
I hoped you would.
And see the same people and the same places?And do the same things?See--see HER!Did you--he moved impatiently--did you expect me to attend the wedding?She put out her hand.I know it'll be hard,she said,stayin'
here,I mean.But your duty to others--
Don't you think we've heard enough about duty to others?How about my duty to myself?I guess that's the last thing we ought to think about in the world,if we do try to be fair and square.Your church thinks a heap of you,John.They build on you.You've done more in the little while you've been here than Mr.Langley did in his last fifteen years.We've grown and we're doin'good--doin'it,not talkin'it in prayer meetin'.The parish committee likes you and the poor folks in the society love you.Old Mrs.Prince was tellin'me,only a little spell ago,that she didn't know how she'd have pulled through this dreadful time if 'twa'n't for you.And there's lots of others.Are you goin'to leave them?And what reason will you give for leavin'?He shook his head.I don't know,he answered.I may not give any.But I shall go.I don't believe you will.I don't believe you're that kind.I've watched you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin'together and I have more faith in you than that comes to.You haven't acted to me like a coward and I don't think you'll run away.Mrs.Coffin,it is so easy for you to talk.Perhaps if I were in your place I should be giving good advice about duty and not running away and so on.But suppose you were in mine.Well,suppose I was.
Suppose--Oh,but there!it's past supposing.I don't know's 'tis.My life hasn't been all sunshine and fair winds,by no means.That's true.I beg your pardon.You have had troubles and,from what I hear,you've borne them bravely.But you haven't had to face anything like this.Haven't I?Well,what is it you're asked to face?Disappointment?
I've faced that.Sorrow and heartbreak?I've faced them.You've never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love more than all the world marry some one else.How do you know I ain't?How do you know I ain't doin'just that now?Mrs.Coffin!
John Ellery,you listen to me.You think I'm a homely old woman,probably,set in my ways as an eight-day clock.I guess I look like it and act like it.But I ain't so awful old--on the edge of forty,that's all.And when I was your age I wa'n't so awful homely,either.I had fellers aplenty hangin'round and I could have married any one of a dozen.This ain't boastin';land knows I'm fur from that.I was brought up in this town and even when Iwas a girl at school there was only one boy I cared two straws about.He and I went to picnics together and to parties and everywhere.Folks used to laugh and say we was keepin'comp'ny,even then.
Well,when I was eighteen,after father died,I went up to New Bedford to work in a store there.Wanted to earn my own way.And this young feller I'm tellin'you about went away to sea,but every time he come home from a voyage he come to see me and things went on that way till we was promised to each other.The engagement wa'n't announced,but 'twas so,just the same.We'd have been married in another year.And then we quarreled.
'Twas a fool quarrel,same as that kind gen'rally are.As much my fault as his and as much his as mine,I cal'late.Anyhow,we was both proud,or thought we was,and neither would give in.And he says to me,'You'll be sorry after I'm gone.You'll wish me back then.'And says I,BEIN'a fool,'I guess not.There's other fish in the sea.'He sailed and I did wish him back,but I wouldn't write fust and neither would he.And then come another man.She paused,hesitated,and then continued.
Never mind about the other man.He was handsome then,in a way,and he had money to spend,and he liked me.He wanted me to marry him.If--if the other,the one that went away,had written I never would have thought of such a thing,but he didn't write.And,my pride bein'hurt,and all,I finally said yes to the second chap.
