If Norman had not gone away would I have married him?
I did not know anything about marriage in that innocent childhood. Norman staying right along, and we growing nearer each other, reading the same books, enjoying thrilling or tender verses, walks and talks, and then—I knew there would not have been any repulsion, that I should have been glad, glad with supreme joy, just as Sophie had been.
I laid the package down on the table. Father was in his office, but I could not go in. I went up to our room, took off my bonnet and glanced around. Dan had been in and changed his clothes. Trousers thrown over a chair, collar and stock on the bureau, shoes and a soiled handkerchief on the floor. Dan had gone off somewhere. The most curious repulsion came over me. I could not touch one article to put them away. Oh, if I could run away somewhere—but there was father. Keeping together "as long as ye both do live."
"Ruth!" called father.
It might have been minutes or hours, it seemed an endless while to me.
"Did you get the paper? Come down. I want to make out some bills. Dan's gone to Batavia for two days, left his good-by. Why, Ruth, you look like a ghost, what is the matter?"
"Do I?" I tried to laugh, but my mouth was stiff, and I felt numb all over. "I don't think it anything. I may have walked too fast. The sun is hot."
He put me in the big rocking chair. I picked up a fan. I was cold enough, Heaven knew, but I wanted to make some movement.
"Ruth, I think you are not well. You grow thinner all the time, and you have no flesh to lose. We must have the doctor. Child, I have been comforting myself that matters were better with you——"
His kindly eyes were full of solicitude.