I talked to her as I put out my whole strength on the reins. I felt I could not stand it much longer, my arms were giving way and I wondered whether Gibbie was thrown off and what would be the end, when she slacked her speed and finally came down into a trot. Then I called to Gibbie.
He is stone deaf, which makes a difficulty, and I was too shaken and stiff to be able to turn around to look; but when at last he heard he answered with cheerful equanimity. Having once given me his faith, Gibbie did not appear to have the least anxiety.
My heart was filled with thanksgiving as I stepped down from the funny little cart at the stable door, Marietta dripping with sweat and blood streaming from each side of her mouth, but turning around to see what I had for her with a look of affection. I always gave Ruth a lump of sugar when she had been good, but this poor dear little hard times thing won't take sugar nor apple nor carrot—no, nothing but an ear of corn will she take.
This is the last night of the old year. For the first time since the tragedy I felt myself drawn to the piano, and I played Chopin's funeral march over and over, with its wonderful wail of sorrow, and then Beethoven's funeral march on the death of a hero. Such a contrast! No wail here. Rather "Gloria Victor":—
O Death, where is thy sting?
O Grave, where thy victory?
The old year is dead. God grant us grace in the new.
CHAPTER IX
January 1.
The new year ought to fill one with bright anticipations and hopes, but somehow I am so weighed down by realities, in the shape of bills and accounts which should be paid and for which I see no wherewithal, that my horizon seems dark and cloud-capped. I try to keep myself hard at work, as that is the only way to get rid of anxiety.