"No, I knew you would never think of it. You
are a man, you see. I counted that in. I was afraid from the first you
would wreck all by following me."
I was mutely penitent. "And yet, you forgive me, Hilda?"
Her eyes beamed tenderness. "To know all, is to forgive all," she
answered. "I have to remind you of that so often! How can I help
forgiving, when I know WHY you came--what spur it was that drove you?
But it is the future we have to think of now, not the past. And I must
wait and reflect. I have NO plan just at present."
"What are you doing at this farm?" I gazed round at it, dissatisfied.
"I board here," Hilda answered, amused at my crestfallen face. "But, of
course, I cannot be idle; so I have found work to do. I ride out on
my bicycle to two or three isolated houses about, and give lessons to
children in this desolate place, who would otherwise grow up ignorant.
It fills my time, and supplies me with something besides myself to think
about."
"And what am _I_ to do?" I cried, oppressed with a sudden sense of
helplessness.
She laughed at me outright. "And is this the first moment that that
difficulty has occurred to you?" she asked, gaily.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231