It seemed hardly credible that she should be
able to stand alone at such a time, not to speak of the strength
required to take her out of herself. And was not the loneliness itself
an added misery? She never could bear to be alone, and I always thought
the worst trial of her married life was the mental solitude to which it
had reduced her by making her feel the necessity for reserve, even with
her best friends. Of course she had chosen to go alone; it was quite
her own doing; but I could not help thinking, uneasily at times, that
she would not have gone at all if she had not noticed how anxious we
were about her, and fancied she could relieve us of our trouble by
relieving us of her presence. That would have been so like Ideala! And
then my thoughts would wander off, recalling her numberless little
deeds of love, her perfect selflessness, and all the depth and beauty
of her great and tender nature, as we do recall such things of one who
has gone and will nevermore return, as in the old days, to make us
glad. There was the day I had seen her from the club window stoop to
pick up a little ragged barefooted child that was crying in the street,
and wrap her furs about it and carry it off, smiling and happy, in her
arms, with no more thought of the attention such an action would
attract than if she had been alone with her waif in the desert.
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