"She has neither house, nor home, nor friend, nor money. What wouldst thou, in her place? —"
Elizabeth put her face in her hands and almost groaned. She took it up and looked out, but in all bright nature she could find nothing which did not side against her. She got up and walked the room; then she sat down and began to consider what arrangements would be necessary, and what would be possible. Then confessed to herself that it would not be all bad to have somebody to break her solitude, even anybody; then got over another qualm of repugnance, and drew the table near her and opened her desk.
Shahweetah, Sept. 26, 1817.
"Dear Rose,
"I am all alone, like you. Will you come here and let us do the best we can together? I am at a place you don't like, but I shall not stay here all the time, and I think you can bear it with me for a while. I shall have things arranged so as to make you as comfortable as you can be in such straitened quarters, and expect you will come as soon as you can get a good opportunity. Whether you come by boat or not, part of the way, you will have to take the stage-coach from Pimpernel here; and you must stop at the little village of Mountain Spring, opposite Wut-a-qut-o. From there you can get here by wagon or boat. I can't send for you, for I have neither one nor the other.
"Yours truly, dear Rose,
"Elizabeth Haye."
With the letter in her hand, Elizabeth went forth to the kitchen.
"Karen, is there any sort of a cabinet-maker at Mountain
Spring?"
"What's that?" said Karen.