"She's gone away and the call is—stilled."
Markham sat down again before the fire and buried his head in his hands. Quietly the old brother and sister sat for a full half hour, then Levi got up.
"Good-night, sister," he said.
"Good-night, brother."
That was all. They knew that they were unable to reach the hurt that Sandy had received.
CHAPTER XXV
But Matilda Markham could not sit down under her weight of conviction in protracted silence. The winter at last gripped The Hollow, and doors and windows were closed against the cold and storm. Markham, Martin, and Sandy were always away together much of the day, but Matilda sat by her fire, chatted a little with Sally, revelled in Marcia Lowe's frequent calls, and managed to weave a tender story from all she heard. She knitted her endless rainbow scarfs and gave them to the mountain women who received them in stolid amazement and doted upon them in secret. Once Matilda did a very daring and tremendous thing. She wrote to Olive Treadwell and asked some pointed and vital questions about Lansing's wife!
Having sent the letter away impulsively, the poor little lady had a week of real torture. Daily she walked to the post-office, when no one was watching, and caused Tod Greeley much amusement by her nervous anxiety.
"Meaning no offence," he confided to Marcia Lowe, "and respecting her age and gray hairs, I reckon the old miss is in love. It comes late to some folks," he sighed pathetically, "and it comes right hard when it strikes past the time limit, but nothing but love takes it out of folks like what this old miss is suffering."