“No matter—thither let us go. I seem to see it, stretching out its hands, and imploring us to come.”
“Bless me, Margaret! a farm stretching out its hands! Why, you're in a dream!”
“Don't wake me, then! Better I should so dream! Thither I go. It is fortunate that you have not been able to sell it. It is a mercy that it still remains to us. It was my childhood's home. Would it could again receive me as a child! It will cover my head for a while, at least, and that is something. We must leave this place. Here every thing offends me—every spot, every face, every look, every gesture.”
“It's impossible, Margaret!—”
“What! you suppose it an honorable distinction, do you, when the folks here point to your daughter, and say—ha! ha!—listen what they say! It is the language of compliment! They are doing me honor, with tongue and finger! Repeat, mother; tell me what they say—for it evidently gives you great pleasure.”
“O Margaret! Margaret!—”
“You understand, do you? Well, then, we go. We can not depart too soon. If I stay here, I madden! And I must not madden. I have something which needs be done—which must be done. It is an oath! an oath in heaven! The child was a witness. She heard all—every syllable!”
“What all? what did you hear?”
“No matter! I'm sworn to be secret. But you shall hear in time. We have no time for it now. It is a very long story. And we must now be packing. Yes, we must go. I must go, at least. Shall I go alone?”
“But you will not leave your mother, Margaret!”