CHAPTER XXIII

nevertellyou—butGodwillblessyouforit.IknowHewill—‘withwhatmeasureyemete.’” CissysobbedforafewminutesinValancy’sarms.Thenshewipedhereyes. “Well,that’salmostall.Icamehome.Iwasn’treallysoveryunhappy.IsupposeIshouldhavebeen—butIwasn’t.Fatherwasn’thardonme.Andmybabywassosweetwhilehelived.Iwasevenhappy—Ilovedhimsomuch,thedearlittlething.Hewassosweet,Valancy—withsuchlovelyblueeyes—andlittleringsofpalegoldhairlikesilkfloss—andtinydimpledhands.Iusedtobitehissatin-smoothlittlefaceallover—softly,soasnottohurthim,youknow——” “Iknow,”saidValancy,wincing.“Iknow—awomanalwaysknows—anddreams——” “Andhewasallmine.Nobodyelsehadanyclaimonhim.Whenhedied,oh,Valancy,IthoughtImustdietoo—Ididn’tseehowanybodycouldenduresuchanguishandlive.Toseehisdearlittleeyesandknowhewouldneveropenthemagain—tomisshiswarmlittlebodynestledagainstmineatnightandthinkofhimsleepingaloneandcold,hisweefaceunderthehardfrozenearth.Itwassoawfulforthefirstyear—afterthatitwasalittleeasier,onedidn’tkeepthinking‘thisdaylastyear’—butIwassogladwhenIfoundoutIwasdying.” “‘Whocouldendurelifeifitwerenotforthehopeofdeath?’”murmuredValancysoftly—itwasofcourseaquotationfromsomebookofJohnFoster’s. “I’mgladI’vetoldyouallaboutit,”sighedCissy.“Iwantedyoutoknow.” Cissydiedafewnightsafterthat.RoaringAbelwasaway.WhenValancysawthechangethathadcomeoverCissy’sfaceshewantedtotelephoneforthedoctor.ButCissywouldn’tlether. “Valancy,whyshouldyou?Hecandonothingforme.I’veknownforseveraldaysthat—this—wasnear.Letmedieinpeace,dear—justholdingyourhand.Oh,I’mso