“Doctor, nobody know nothin' 'bout Elsie but of Sophy. She no like any other creator' th't ever drawed the bref o' life. If she ca'n' marry one man 'cos she love him, she marry another man 'cos she hate him.”
“Marry a man because she hates him, Sophy? No woman ever did such a thing as that, or ever will do it.”
“Who tol' you Elsie was a woman, Doctor?” said old Sophy, with a flash of strange intelligence in her eyes.
The Doctor's face showed that he was startled. The old woman could not know much about Elsie that he did not know; but what strange superstition had got into her head, he was puzzled to guess. He had better follow Sophy's lead and find out what she meant.
“I should call Elsie a woman, and a very handsome one,” he said. “You don't mean that she has any mark about her, except—you know—under the necklace?”
The old woman resented the thought of any deformity about her darling.
“I did n' say she had nothin'—but jes' that—you know. My beauty have anything ugly? She's the beautifullest-shaped lady that ever had a shinin' silk gown drawed over her shoulders. On'y she a'n't like no other woman in none of her ways. She don't cry 'n' laugh like other women. An' she ha'n' got the same kind o' feelin's as other women.—Do you know that young gen'l'm'n up at the school, Doctor?”
“Yes, Sophy, I've met him sometimes. He's a very nice sort of young man, handsome, too, and I don't much wonder Elsie takes to him. Tell me, Sophy, what do you think would happen, if he should chance to fall in love with Elsie, and she with him, and he should marry her?”
“Put your ear close to my lips, Doctor, dear!” She whispered a little to the Doctor, then added aloud, “He die,—that's all.”
“But surely, Sophy, you a'n't afraid to have Dick marry her, if she would have him for any reason, are you? He can take care of himself, if anybody can.”