"
"You don't answer me, James." There was the old quiet, persistent way
he had known in many happy days, reinforced by hysteric incapacity to
comprehend the maze of difficulties in which he was caught.
"It is a pity I did not die," she said, "that would have saved you all
this trouble."
He felt the cruelty of her words as he broke away and left the room.
McGregor had waited, and hearing his story said, "It will pass. You must
not mind it--she is hardly sane."
James Penhallow mounted and rode to the village, was duly shaved, and
went on to the post-office. Mrs. Crocker rotund and rosy came out and
handed him as he sat in the saddle a sheaf of letters. "Yes, Mrs.
Penhallow is better, thank you." As he rode away the reins on Dixy's
neck, he read his letters and stuffed them in his pocket until he came
to one, over which he lingered long. It ran thus:
"MY DEAR SIR: Will you not reconsider the offer of the colonelcy of a
regiment? It will not require your presence until July. There is no need
to reply at once. There is no one else so entirely fit for such a charge,
and the Attorney-General, your friend Meredith, unites with me in my
appeal to you. The State and the country need you.
"Yours truly,
"ANDREW CURTIN."
He reached but one conclusion as he turned the tempting offer over in
his mind, and acting on it wrote the Governor from his office that his
wife was at present too ill for him to consider the offer of a command.
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