CHAPTER XXIII
關燈
小
中
大
andfadeuntilitpaledandfadedoutofsightinthelivingroseofday.Alittlepoolinthebarrensshoneinthesunriselikeagreatgoldenlily.
ButtheworldsuddenlyseemedacolderplacetoValancy.Againnobodyneededher.ShewasnotintheleastsorryCeciliawasdead.Shewasonlysorryforallhersufferinginlife.Butnobodycouldeverhurtheragain.Valancyhadalwaysthoughtdeathdreadful.ButCissyhaddiedsoquietly—sopleasantly.Andattheverylast—something—hadmadeuptoherforeverything.Shewaslyingtherenow,inherwhitesleep,lookinglikeachild.Beautiful!Allthelinesofshameandpaingone.
RoaringAbeldrovein,justifyinghisname.Valancywentdownandtoldhim.Theshocksoberedhimatonce.Heslumpeddownontheseatofhisbuggy,hisgreatheadhanging.
“Cissydead—Cissydead,”hesaidvacantly.“Ididn’tthinkitwould‘a’comesosoon.Dead.Sheusedtorundownthelanetomeetmewithalittlewhiterosestuckinherhair.Cissyusedtobeaprettylittlegirl.Andagoodlittlegirl.”
“Shehasalwaysbeenagoodlittlegirl,”saidValancy.
