Tom came in and had a frolic with Tomine, and when he went he held my hand a moment, looking into my face as if to impress me with what he said.
"Thank you, Ruth," were the words; "I think you'll succeed in making me human again. Good-night."
If I am helping him to be reconciled with the world and himself I am more glad than I can tell.
October 28. The earthquake always finds us unprepared, and to-night it has come. I feel dazed and queer, as if life had been shaken to its foundations, and as if it were trembling about me.
George came in suddenly—My hand trembles so that I am writing like an old woman. If the chief object of keeping a journal is to help myself to be sane and rational, I must have better control over my nerves.
About seven o'clock, as I sat sewing, I heard Hannah open the front door to somebody. I half expected a deacon, as it generally is a deacon in the evening, but the door opened, and George came rushing in. His hurry and his excited manner made me see at once that something unusual had happened. His face was pale, his eyes wild, and somehow his whole air was terrifying.
"What is the matter?" I cried, jumping up to meet him.
He tried to speak, but only gave a sort of choking gasp.
"Has anything happened?" I asked him. "Your wife"—
"I haven't any wife," he interrupted.