She
gazed out into the dim spaces beyond the summer-house and thought,
with a curious detachment, of all that had happened. It was as if she
had grown old and was looking back calmly to a girlhood long since
past. She could almost smile at the recollection of herself stifling
her sobs in her pillow, lest Jim should hear.
"Why should I care for him?" she asked herself wonderingly; and could
not tell.
Then all at once she found herself weeping softly, her head on the
rickety table.
Jim Dodge, too intently absorbed in his own confused thoughts to pay
much attention to Fanny, had walked resolutely in the direction of
Mrs. Solomon Black's house; from which, he reflected, the minister
would be obliged to absent himself for at least an hour. He hoped
Mrs. Black had not induced Lydia to go to the prayer meeting with
her. Why any one should voluntarily go to a prayer meeting passed his
comprehension. Jim had once attended what was known as a "protracted
meeting," for the sole purpose of pleasing his mother, who all at
once had appeared tearfully anxious about his "soul." He had not
enjoyed the experience.
"Are you saved, my dear young brother?" Deacon Whittle had inquired
of him, in his snuffling, whining, peculiarly objectionable tone.
"From what, Deacon?" Jim had blandly inquired. "You in for it, too?"
Whereat the Deacon had piously shaken his head and referred him to
the "mourner's pew," with the hope that he might even yet be plucked
as a brand from the burning.
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