CHAPTER XLI

her.ValancyhadwonderedwhattoneBarneywouldsay“Iloveyou”in—howhisdark-blueeyeswouldlookwhenhesaidit.EthelTraverseknew.Valancyhatedherfortheknowledge—hatedandenviedher. “ShecanneverhavethosehoursintheBlueCastle.Theyaremine,”thoughtValancysavagely.EthelwouldnevermakestrawberryjamordancetooldAbel’sfiddleorfrybaconforBarneyoveracamp-fire.ShewouldnevercometothelittleMistawisshackatall. WhatwasBarneydoing—thinking—feelingnow?Hadhecomehomeandfoundherletter?Washestillangrywithher?Oralittlepitiful.WashelyingontheirbedlookingoutonstormyMistawisandlisteningtotherainstreamingdownontheroof?Orwashestillwanderinginthewilderness,ragingatthepredicamentinwhichhefoundhimself?Hatingher?Paintookherandwrungherlikesomegreatpitilessgiant.Shegotupandwalkedthefloor.Wouldmorningnevercometoendthishideousnight?Andyetwhatcouldmorningbringher?Theoldlifewithouttheoldstagnationthatwasatleastbearable.Theoldlifewiththenewmemories,thenewlongings,thenewanguish. “Oh,whycan’tIdie?”moanedValancy.