"But they all mind, and the less sense, the more they take on. It was just the same with mine; and only her large belief that God couldn't make no mistakes kept her quiet."
"Go--go!" suddenly cried David. "Who am I to bide here talking to you, and that woman dead behind the door?"
"I will go--this minute--'tis natural and quite proper, poor David, that you feel like this. Break away from man you must; but don't break away from God. Kneel beside her body and pray your heart out. 'Tis the only thing will keep your brain steady. Work and pray--work like a team of bosses and pray like a team of saints. Out of kindness I say it. I'm gone-- She saved my life, mind. You must let me share the praying, for by God's grace her death kept me alive. A pity you might say, poor man, in your black misery and ignorance. But God knew which was wanted most. I must live--He only knows why; and this young lovely thing, in full joy of health and happiness, must cut her thread. 'Tis too much to expect we can understand; but we ban't expected to understand all that happens. I tell you the longest life ban't long enough to explain the way of God to man, David. Now fetch me a wool shirt while I draw off this one. Then I be going to catch doctor. And I must look at her once more."
He went into the other room and David, having brought him a dry garment, followed him.
"A picture of a happy creature," said Reuben, as he stripped to the waist and dried his huge body. "Remember that. This be only a perishing bit of clay now, David--blue-vinnied, you see--ready to sink into earth--but Madge--a very different tale. A lovely, shining angel is she singing over our heads, along with my wife and all the good dead women. You keep that in mind and say no more cruel words against Heaven than you can help. They will out, but fight 'em down, same as I did."
A few minutes afterward Shillabeer went away; but he was still talking aloud to himself, rolling his head and waving his arms.
Then David, left alone, strove wildly for some faint sign or promise that his wife was not dead. He stripped her, fetched blankets, lighted a fire, thrust hot bricks to her feet, and strove to warm her body. Thus he laboured only that he might be doing something, and through physical exertion cheat mental torture. He knew that all efforts were vain, and presently he abandoned them, left his wife in peace, and went into the kitchen and sat down there.
Nobody came to him for some hours. Then the doctor arrived, expressed deep sympathy, and promised to see those in authority. He departed in less than half-an-hour and the man was left alone again.
Two women came presently, did their office for the dead, and went away again.
Bowden's thoughts rose and fell like an ebbing and flowing sea. They wearied him and sank away, leaving his mind a drowsy blank; then, with a little rest, intellect gripped the catastrophe once more and the tide of suffering flowed and overwhelmed his spirit. He connected Rhoda with this event. The more he considered the more he suspected that something terrible must have happened between the women. He went several times to the door to look for Rhoda. But she did not come.