These were perhaps the only times when her face was the mirror of her
confused, vague and troubled youth. Captive in a world bounded by a man's
will, she simply did not begin to understand this strange and
overpowering creature who had taken possession of her body, mind and
soul. She trembled and hesitated before every cave of mystery which her
daily life with him opened darkly to her abashed eyes. She felt herself
going round and round and round in a circle, not forlorn enough to rebel
or break away, but dazed and wondering and shrinking. She was like one
robbed of will, made mechanical by a stern conformity to imposed rules of
life and conduct. There were women in Askatoon who were sorry for her and
made efforts to get near her; but whether it was the Methodist Minister
or his wife, or the most voluble sister of the prayer-meeting, none got
beyond the threshold of Tralee, as it were.
The girl-wife abashed them. She was as one who automatically spoke as she
was told to speak, did what she was told to do. Yet she always smiled at
the visitors when they came, or when she saw them and others at the
Meeting House. It was, however, not a smile for an individual, whoever
that individual might chance to be. It was only the kindness of her
nature expressing itself. Talking seemed like the exercise of a foreign
language to her, but her smiling was free and unconstrained, and it
belonged to all, without selection.
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