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Mitchell, S. Weir (Silas Weir), 1829-1914

"Westways"


On a wild windy afternoon in February, the snow falling heavily, Leila on
her way to the village rang at the Rector's door. Getting no answer, she
went in and passing through the front room knocked at the library door.
"Come in." Rivers was at his table in a room littered with books and
newspapers. The gentle smile of his usual greeting was missing. She saw
at once that he was in one of his moods of melancholy--rare of late. Her
eyes quick to see when she was interested noted that where he sat there
was neither book nor paper in front of him. He rose as she entered, tall,
stooping, lean, and so thin-featured that his large eyes were the more
notable.
"Aunt Ann has a cold, and Joe Grace was at the house to say that his
father is ill, and aunt wishes you to go with me and see what is wanted.
He has no way to send for the doctor; and so you see, as he is in bed,
you must go with me."
"Oh, I saw him this morning. It is of no moment. I did what was needed."
"But I have to see Mrs. Lamb too. Come for the walk. It is blowing a gale
and the snow is splendid--do come."
Of late he had rarely walked with her. He hesitated.
"Do come."
"If I die of cold, Leila."
"Die! You do not take exercise enough to keep your blood in motion. Come,
please!"
He said no more except "Wait a moment," and returned fitly clad.


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