“As I followed the little unused path, keeping before me all the time the tall, white shaft, I seemed to leave the world in which I had been living, the choking sensation gave way, my eyes no longer burned, the great relief I sought seemed granted, and instead of gasping for breath and feeling the hot scalding tears running down my cheeks, I kneeled down on my mother’s grave and gave way to the sobs that came, it seemed to me, like great waves of comfort, and felt tears that were cool and refreshing. I remained there for hours, never looking up and not till a well known fluttering sound reached my ear, did I think of leaving. The noise was made by a flock of blackbirds that had come to seek shelter for the night. As I passed down the sloping hillside where the long shadows were fast fading into the twilight, the first feeling of loneliness crept over me but I did not want to leave. I loved the place. It seemed the most sacred place on earth to me.
“That night as I rolled and tossed in my bed, I fully realized that I had been wrong. Yes—it was wrong for me to disobey my father and I had aggravated him until he was cross. It was all my fault that he had threatened me. I had no business to annoy him and would go now and ask his forgiveness. I stole out of my room feeling like a guilty culprit. I can see myself now as I crept through the long hall of our old Southern home, closer and closer to his door, until at last I could hear his deep, heavy breathing. I pushed the door open, then at the critical moment I became frightened lest I should waken him, still I was firm in my purpose. There in the darkness of his room I saw the hillside, saw the birds and heard the soft rustling of the leaves. Oh, how my heart went out to poor papa, alone—alone—in the world, with only an ungrateful, disobedient daughter as his nearest of kin. I am sure that the time spent at the grave created a communion of souls. I could almost see my mother as she had been pictured to me, and the vision drew me nearer to papa. One step more and I was inside the room, cautiously I crept to the bedside, then quietly kneeling on the carpet, I buried my face in the pillow beside his head, then for the first time that I could remember I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. His first words brought a flood of tears to my eyes and caused such a lump to rise in my throat that I could not say a word. I knew now that he misunderstood me, for with a muttered curse he commanded me to go back to my room.
“‘But please, papa, hear me,’ I begged.
“‘No, I don’t want any more foolish nonsense out of you,’ he said.
“Nothing could induce him to hear me, and I was compelled to leave without making him understand that it was forgiveness and just a word of love that my young heart yearned for, instead of his permission to see my lover.
“Back to the loneliness of my own room I went. As I felt my way along the dark hall I wished that I might die. Ah, if I could only have heard one kind word from him I would—well, I am sure that you would not have had this story for your book, but I suppose,” said the girl with a dreamy sigh, “that the foundation of your work is cemented together with the mortar made from mistakes.”
“Yes, I quite agree with you, that if there were no sorrow in this world this book never would have been written.”
“Well, back to the story,” she said, with a toss of her head, as though she would have it done with.
“Yes, go on.”
“I returned to bed but not to sleep; I tossed about in frantic efforts to forget the burning wound I felt. When daylight came I arose and dressed myself without calling my maid. My eyes were so red and swollen that I could not go down to breakfast at the usual hour and when I did go I asked for my father.