“I suppose there must be some little sentiment clinging to the bitter cruelty which makes it as precious to you as the sweet violets are to the lover of dainty flowers.”
“Yes,” she said, “the fact that I have kept this ring is, in part, the reason of my long suffering, but as it was given to me, according to my belief, in purity, I kept it in memory of the thoughts which emanated from my heart when I took it. My mind was as pure then as the gem itself. If I have become contaminated by adversity I can proudly say that this gleaming white stone, on account of its flinty hardness, has escaped the fire of degradation.
“It was five days subsequent to our going to the cottage that my husband and I were seated on the veranda of our little cottage, congratulating ourselves on having secured such an easy position and liberal compensation for the light services rendered.
“‘I wonder,’ said Dan, ‘why the old gentleman doesn’t take her to some private hospital, where she could receive proper medical attention, as well as the benefit of trained nurses?’
“‘But you know, dear,’ said I, ‘that a rich man does not like to have his daughter in an asylum; and besides I don’t think we should complain, because the care of this poor girl is not a great burden and her unbalanced condition serves for us to be together all the time.’
“‘Yes, I know,’ said Dannie; ‘but I can’t stand it to hear her moan and weep the way she does. Sometimes in the night when I am but half asleep her screams and groans disturb me so that I get to dreaming somehow or other that it is you who are locked up in that horrible but softly padded room. It is so real that it is like a nightmare, and finally, as I fancy myself struggling against a wall trying to free you, with a mighty lunge I awake, and while I then know it is only a dream I am dripping with cold perspiration. My nerves are all unstrung, and I feel just like reaching over and taking you in my arms and running away, leaving the old man and his crazy daughter far behind.’”
“Then it really was a crazy girl you had to care for?”
“Oh, yes. You see, this old gentleman had married years ago. I remember how he told us all about it. How his sweet young wife had been killed in a railroad accident and his little daughter went raving mad when her mother’s mangled form was brought home to her. And he seemed to be doing all he could to make the poor demented creature happy.”
At this she laughed discordantly. It seemed so out of place to me, for to look at her and hear her voice was to be inspired with a sense of harmony.
“I left my chair and went over to him. I crawled up into his lap and nestled my face against his. ‘You mustn’t dream that way, dear,’ said I. ‘It is bad for you, and besides you know I am always by your side.’