"Naw, she wouldn't come," said Sim Gage. "But, say, that reminds me—I never did tell her about that letter."
"Better take it in to her," said Wid, turning away.
He walked towards the gate. After Sim had seen him safely in the distance he went with laggard step toward the door of his own home.
Mary Warren was not asleep. It was her voice, not loud, which greeted his timid tapping at the half-burned door frame.
"Come in. Who is it?"
"It's me, ma'am," said he; and entered a little at a time.
He might have seen the faint color rise to her cheek as she drew herself up in bed, to talk with him. Her face, turned full toward him, was a thing upon which he could not gaze direct. It terrified him with its high born beauty, even as he now resolved to "look right into her eyes."
"You've not been in to see me, Mr. Gage," said she at length, bravely. "Why didn't you come? I get awfully lonesome."
"Is that so?" said he. "That's just the way I do."
"It's too bad, all this awful trouble," said she. "I've been what they call a Jonah, don't you think, Mr. Gage?"