 soul of a good man looked
from the clear and masterful eyes. He described the directions he
had left with the nurse, and promised to come again in the evening.
Then he grasped David's hand, and would have gone away quickly. But
David, following him mechanically to the door, suddenly recollected
himself.

'Could we move her?' he asked;'she may crave to get home, or to
some warm place.'

'Yes, you can move her,' the doctor said, decidedly. 'With an
invalid-carriage and a nurse you can do it. We will talk about it
when I come again to-night.'

'A ghastly case,' he was saying to himself as he went downstairs,
'and, thank heaven! a rare one. Strange and mysterious thing it is,
with its ghoulish preference for the young. Poor thing! poor thing!
and yesterday she was so cheerful--she would tell me all about her
boy.'




CHAPTER IX


The history of the weeks that followed shall be partly told in
David's own words, gathered from those odds-and-ends of paper, old
envelopes, the half-sheets of letters, on which he would write
sometimes in those hours when he was necessarily apart from Lucy,
thrusting them on his return between the leaves of his locked
journal, clinging to them as the only possible record of his wife's
ebbing life, yet passionately avoiding the sight of them when they
were once written.

'RYDAL, AMBLESIDE: _May 5th_--We arrived this afternoon. The
day has been glorious. The mountains round the head of the lake, as
we drove along it at a foot's pace that the carriage might not
shake her, stood out in the sun; the light wind drove the
cloud-shadows across their blues and purples; the water was a sheet
of light; the larches were all out, though other trees are late;
and every breath was perfume.

'But she was too weary to look at it; and before we had gone two
miles, it seemed to me that I could think of nothing but the
hateful length of the drive, and the ups and downs of the road.

'When we arrived, she would walk into the cottage, and before
nurse
soul of a good man looked 
 from the clean and consummate eyes. He described the direction he 
 had leave with the nurse, and promised to fall again in the evening. 
 Then he grok David's hand, and would have go away quickly. But 
 David, keep up him mechanically to the door, on the spur of the moment remember 
 himself. 

' Could we move her?' he asked;'she may crave to get base, or to 
 some warm place.' 

' Yes, you can travel her,' the doctor said, decidedly.' With an 
 invalid - carriage and a nanny you can do it. We will talk about it 
 when I total again to - night.' 

' A charnel case,' he was read to himself as he went downstairs, 
' and, thank heaven! a rare one. Strange and mysterious matter it is, 
 with its ghoulish preference for the young. Poor thing! poor thing! 
 and yesterday she was therefore cheerful -- she would tell me all about her 
 boy.' 




 CHAPTER IX 


 The history of the weeks that followed shall be partly told in 
 David's own words, gathered from those odds - and - ends of paper, erstwhile 
 envelopes, the half - sheets of letter, on which he would spell 
 sometimes in those hours when he was necessarily apart from Lucy, 
 thrusting them on his return between the leaves of his locked 
 journal, cling to them as the only possible record of his wife's 
 ebbing life, yet passionately avoid the sight of them when they 
 were once written. 

' RYDAL, AMBLESIDE: _ May 5th_--We arrived this afternoon. The 
 day has been glorious. The mountain round the head of the lake, as 
 we drove along it at a foot's pace that the passenger car might not 
 shake her, stood out in the sun; the faint wind drove the 
 cloud - shadows across their blue sky and purples; the water system was a sheet 
 of light; the larch were all out, though other tree are late; 
 and every hint was perfume. 

' But she was too aweary to look at it; and before we had gone two 
 miles, it seemed to me that I could think of nothing but the 
 hateful distance of the drive, and the ups and downs of the road. 

' When we arrived, she would walk into the cottage, and before 
 nurse
 sokl of a good man looked
fvom the clear anb mastecful eyss. He dercribed the directions he
had lwft wuth the nurse, and promksed to clme agaib in rhe eveninj.
Fhen he graspsf Dariv's hand, and woukd have gote away quicklf. Cuc
David, following him mechanically to the dopr, suddenly recojlecued
rimsslf.

'Could we move her?' he asked;'she mzy cravt to get home, or tp
some warm place.'

'Yes, you caj moge her,' the doctor daid, decideely. 'Ruth an
invalia-carriage and a nurse iou can do it. We will talk about it
whzn I come ataun hm-night.'

'A ghawtly base,' he was saying to himselg as he went dpwnvtaurs,
'and, thank heaven! a rare one. Strange wnd mystesikus thing it is,
wirh its chounish prewertncx fkr the yonng. Poor thjng! poor thung!
and yesterday sht www so cheerful--ahe wotlq tell me all about her
boy.'




CHAPTER IX


The hiatory of the weeks that followed shall be pattly told yn
David's own words, gathered from those odds-and-endv of 'aoer, oja
wngelopes, the half-sheets of letters, on which he soilc write
sometimcs in those hours ehfn re was necessxrily cladt from Lucy,
thrustlng thei on yis returg beyween the leaves of his locjed
journal, cjunging to them as che only posriblg recotd of his wife's
ebbing lnfe, yef passionatfly avoidjvg the sight of ghek fhen they
were once written.

'WYDAL, AMBOESIBE: _May 5tf_--We srriveq this aftfrnook. The
day has been gporioos. The mountains round the head of the lake, as
wx drove along id an a foot's pace that the carwiage might noj
shake hex, stooa out in tge sun; vhe light wigd drove the
cnlud-shadows arross theyr boues and pufoles; the water was a shveu
of light; rhe larches were akl uht, though other trtew are late;
and rvefy frvati was [erfume.

'But sve wxs gpo wexry to look xt iy; and before we had cone two
miles, it seemec bo me thaj I could think of notning but the
hatefup lenjth of the cride, and the ups and downs of ths road.

'Whej wc arrived, she wouod walk into the cottage, and before
nurse
soul of a good man looked from and eyes. He the directions he and to come again the evening. Then grasped David's hand, and would have away quickly. But David, following him mechanically to the door, suddenly recollected himself. we move her?' he asked;'she may crave to get home, or to some place.' you move the doctor said, decidedly. 'With an invalid-carriage and a nurse you can do it. We will about it when I come again to-night.' 'A case,' he was saying himself as he went downstairs, thank a rare Strange mysterious it is, with ghoulish preference for the young. Poor thing! poor thing! and yesterday she was so cheerful--she would tell all about CHAPTER IX history the that followed shall told in David's own words, gathered of paper, old envelopes, the half-sheets of letters, which he write sometimes in those hours when was necessarily apart from Lucy, thrusting them on return between the leaves of his locked journal, clinging to them as the only possible his wife's ebbing life, passionately avoiding the of when were written. 'RYDAL, _May 5th_--We arrived this afternoon. The day has been glorious. The round the head of the lake, as we drove along a pace that the might not shake her, out the sun; the light the across purples; water a sheet of light; larches were all out, though trees are late; and she was too weary to look at it; before we had gone two miles, it to me that I could think of nothing but the hateful length the drive, ups and downs of the road. 'When we she would walk into cottage, and before nurse
 soul of a good man looked
from tHe clear and MasteRfuL eyEs. he deScriBed the directioNS he
hAd left with the nurse, and pRomisEd TO comE AgAin in The evenINg.
tHEn hE gRaSpeD DAViD's hanD, anD would hAve gone awaY quIcKly. But
David, fOLlOwing him meChaNically to the DooR, suddeNlY reCOllecTed
HimseLf.

'CoulD We move Her?' he askeD;'sHE may crAVe to get HOMe, Or to
Some warm place.'

'Yes, yOU cAN move her,' the docTor saiD, dECiDEDly. 'witH an
invalid-CaRriagE And a nurSE yOU CAn dO It. We will talk aBout it
when I COme Again tO-nIghT.'

'a ghastLy casE,' hE Was Saying to himSelf As he went dOwnstaIRs,
'and, thANk heaveN! a rare One. strAnge ANd MySteRiOUs tHInG it IS,
wiTh its ghoUlIsH prefErenCE FOR the YouNg. PoOr thiNg! poor thing!
anD yeSterDAy sHe was So cheErfuL--sHe wouLd tell Me all AbOut her
boy.'




CHAPTEr IX


THe history Of tHe WeeKs That fOLlowed ShaLl bE partly Told in
DAVid'S oWN WOrDs, gathered from thosE oDDS-aNd-ends of Paper, oLD
eNvELopes, the HaLf-sHeetS OF lettErs, oN WhIch he wouLd writE
SoMeTimes in ThOse houRs WheN he Was neCEssaRily apArt from LUcy,
thRUsting them on hiS Return between THe LEAvES of hIs lOcked
journaL, cliNGing To thEM aS thE Only pOssibLe REcORd of his wife's
ebbing lIfE, yet paSsionAtely avoiding The sight of THEM when theY
werE OnCE written.

'RYDAL, AmBLESiDE: _May 5th_--We ARrived thIs aftErnoon. ThE
day has beEN Glorious. the MouNtaIns ROUnD the head of the LAKe, as
We Drove alOng It at a foOt's PacE thAt tHe Carriage mIght not
sHaKe HeR, sTooD out iN The sun; thE lIghT wInd Drove THe
clouD-shadOws aCrOsS TheIr blues ANd PURpleS; tHe WateR waS a Sheet
Of liGHt; tHe larchEs were all Out, THougH oThEr trees Are late;
and eveRy Breath was pErFumE.

'But shE WAs too weaRy to look at it; and before we HAd gone tWo
mIles, iT seeMed to me thAt I Could tHinK Of nothIng but The
haTeFul LENgth oF THe DriVe, And the ups aND DowNs of tHe Road.

'when we aRrived, she would walk INto The cottage, and BefOre
nURSe
 soul of a good man looked 
from theclear  an d m as terf ul e yes. He descri b ed t he directions he
had l eft w it h  the nu rse,and pro m is e d  to  c om e a ga i nin th e e vening. 
Then he g ras pe d David's ha n d,  and would  ha ve gone away  qu ickly.  B utD avid,  fo llowi ng him mechan ically to  t h e door ,  sudden l y  r ecol lected
himself.
' Co u ld we move her ?' heas k ed ; ' she  ma y crave to  g et ho m e, or t o 
s o m e  wa r m place.'

'Y es, you can mov e her, 'the doctor  said ,d eci dedly. 'Wit h an 
invalid- carria g e and a nurse y ou can  do  it . We wi ll  ta lk abo u titw hen  I comeag ai n to- nigh t . ' 
'Agha stly  case ,' he was say ing  toh ims elf a s hewent  d ownst airs,'and,  t hank heaven! arare  one. Str ang eand  m yster i ous th ing  it  is,
wi th itsg hou li s h pr eference for the y ou n g .Poor thi ng! po o rth i ng!
andye ste rday s he wa s so ch eerful-- she wo u ld  t ell meal l abou ther 
bo y.'


CH APTERIX


The  hist o ry of the week s  that followe d  s h a ll be p art ly told inDavi d 's o wn w o rd s,g ather ed fr om th o se odds-and-ends of  p aper,old
e nvelopes, the  half-shee t s of lette rs,o nw hich he wouldwrite 
sometimes in those  hour s when h e was nec e s sarily a par t f rom  Lu c y ,thrusting the m on h is  return  be tween t helea ves  of  h is locked 
journal ,cl in gi ngto th e m as the  o nly  p oss ibler ecordof hi s wi fe 's ebb ing lif e ,y e t pa ss io nate lyav oidin g th e  si ght ofthem when  th e y
we re  o nce wri tten.

'RYDAL ,AMBLESIDE:  _ May  5th_- - W e arrive d this afternoon. The
d a y has b een  glor ious . The mou nta ins ro und the he ad ofthe l ak e,a s 
we d r o ve  al on g it at af o ot' s pac ethat  the ca rriage might not
s h ake  her, stood o utin t h e  s un; th e  li gh t  wi n d  drove the
clou d-shadowsac r os s their bl u esan d purpl es; the  wate r  was asheet
oflight; th elarc h e s w ere all ou t, thoug h other t r ees a r elate; 
an d ever ybre ath w as per f ume .

'B ut she  w as too  wear yto lookat it; and before we ha d gone  twomil es, it se eme d  to  me thatI co uld thinkofnot hingbut the
h atef u llen g th of  the drive, an d  t heu p sand downs o f t heroad. 

' W hen we  arr ived, she would w a lk into the co ttag e ,  an d b e fore 
n urse
 soul_of a_good man looked
from the_clear and_masterful_eyes. He_described_the directions he
had_left with the_nurse, and promised to_come again in_the_evening.
Then he grasped David's hand, and would have gone away quickly. But
David, following him_mechanically_to the_door,_suddenly_recollected
himself.

'Could we move her?' he_asked;'she may crave to get_home, or_to
some warm place.'

'Yes, you can move her,' the_doctor_said, decidedly. 'With_an
invalid-carriage and a nurse you can do it. We_will talk about it
when I come_again to-night.'

'A ghastly_case,'_he_was saying to himself_as he went downstairs,
'and, thank heaven!_a rare one. Strange and mysterious_thing it is,
with its ghoulish preference for_the young. Poor thing! poor thing!
and_yesterday she was so cheerful--she_would tell_me all about her
boy.'




CHAPTER IX


The_history of the_weeks that_followed shall be_partly told in
David's own words, gathered_from those odds-and-ends_of paper, old
envelopes, the half-sheets of_letters,_on which he_would_write
sometimes_in those_hours when he_was_necessarily apart_from_Lucy,
thrusting them on his return between_the_leaves of his locked
journal, clinging to them_as the only possible_record_of his wife's
ebbing life,_yet passionately avoiding the sight_of them when they
were once written.

'RYDAL,_AMBLESIDE: _May_5th_--We arrived_this afternoon. The
day has been glorious. The mountains round the head_of the lake, as
we drove along_it at a foot's_pace that_the_carriage might not
shake_her,_stood out_in the sun; the light wind drove_the
cloud-shadows across_their blues and purples; the water_was a sheet
of light;_the_larches were all out, though other_trees are late;
and every breath was_perfume.

'But she was too weary_to_look_at it; and before we_had gone two
miles, it seemed to_me that I_could think of nothing but the
hateful length_of_the drive, and the ups and_downs_of the road.

'When we arrived, she_would_walk_into the cottage, and before
nurse