CHAPTER VIII

Valancydidnotsleepthatnight.Shelayawakeallthroughthelongdarkhours—thinking—thinking.Shemadeadiscoverythatsurprisedher:she,whohadbeenafraidofalmosteverythinginlife,wasnotafraidofdeath.Itdidnotseemintheleastterribletoher.Andsheneednotnowbeafraidofanythingelse.Whyhadshebeenafraidofthings?Becauseoflife.AfraidofUncleBenjaminbecauseofthemenaceofpovertyinoldage.Butnowshewouldneverbeold—neglected—tolerated.Afraidofbeinganoldmaidallherlife.Butnowshewouldnotbeanoldmaidverylong.Afraidofoffendinghermotherandherclanbecauseshehadtolivewithandamongthemandcouldn’tlivepeaceablyifshedidn’tgiveintothem.Butnowshehadn’t.Valancyfeltacuriousfreedom. Butshewasstillhorriblyafraidofonething—thefussthewholejamfryofthemwouldmakewhenshetoldthem.Valancyshudderedatthethoughtofit.Shecouldn’tendureit.Oh,sheknewsowellhowitwouldbe.Firsttherewouldbeindignation—yes,indignationonthepartofUncleJamesbecauseshehadgonetoadoctor—anydoctor—withoutconsultingHIM.Indignationonthepartofhermotherforbeingsoslyanddeceitful—“toyourownmother,Doss.”IndignationonthepartofthewholeclanbecauseshehadnotgonetoDr.Marsh. Thenwouldcomethesolicitude.ShewouldbetakentoDr.Marsh,andwhenDr.MarshconfirmedDr.Trent’sdiagnosisshewouldbetakentospecialistsinTorontoandMontreal.UncleBenjaminwouldfootthebillwithasplendidgestureofmunificenceinthusassistingthewidowandorphan,andtalkforeverafteroftheshockingfeesspecialistschargedforlookingwiseandsayingtheycouldn’tdoanything.AndwhenthespecialistscoulddonothingforherUncleJameswouldinsistonhertakingPurplePills—“I’veknownthemtoeffectacurewhenallthedoctorshadgivenup”—andhermotherwouldinsistonRedfern’sBloodBitters,andCousinStickleswouldinsistonrubbingheroverthehearteverynightwithRedfern’sLinimentonthegroundsthatitmightdogoodandcouldn’tdoharmandeverybodyelsewouldhavesomepetdopeforhertotake.Dr.Stallingwouldcometoherandsaysolemnly,“Youareveryill.Areyoupreparedforwhatmaybebeforeyou?”—almostasifheweregoingtoshakehisforefingerather,theforefingerthathadnotgrownanyshorterorlessknobblywithage.Andshewouldbewatchedandcheckedlikeababyandneverletdoanythingorgoanywherealone.Perhapsshewouldnotevenbeallowedtosleepalonelestshedieinhersleep.CousinSticklesorhermotherwouldinsistonsharingherroomandbed.Yes,undoubtedlytheywould. ItwasthislastthoughtthatreallydecidedValancy.Shecouldnotputupwithitandshewouldn’t.AstheclockinthehallbelowstrucktwelveValancysuddenlyanddefinitelymadeuphermindthatshewouldnottellanybody.Shehadalwaysbeentold,eversinceshecouldremember,thatshemusthideherfeelings.“Itisnotladyliketohavefeelings,”CousinStickleshadoncetoldherdisapprovingly.Well,shewouldhidethemwithavengeance. Butthoughshewasnotafraidofdeathshewasnotindifferenttoit.Shefoundthatsheresentedititwasnotfairthatsheshouldhavetodiewhenshehadneverlived.Rebellionflamedupinhersoulasthedarkhourspassedby—notbecause