Memory, that great miracle worker,
had contrived to produce this illusion; and all Sarah's hard common
sense could not prevent her feeling an indignant pity because Reuben's
possibilities of happiness had been unfulfilled. Trouble after trouble
and never anything to make up for them, and then to go this way while he
was resting! "It's like that," she thought bitterly to herself, alluding
to life. "It's like that!" And it seemed to her suddenly that the whole
of existence was but a continual demonstration of the strong religious
dogmas on which her house of faith had been reared. When you looked
around you, she thought, with triumph, there wasn't any explanation of
the seeming injustice except original sin. There was a strange comfort
in this conviction, as though it represented the single reality to which
she could cling amid the mutable deceptions of life. "Thar wouldn't
be any sense in it if 'twarn't for that," she would sometimes say to
herself, as one who draws strength from a secret source of refreshment.
In Abel the news of Reuben's death awoke a different emotion, and his
first thought was of Molly.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310