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

"Westways"

"
"She is greatly changed, Leila. I hardly know how to state it. She has a
look of--well, of something spiritual in her face."
"Yes, that is true. Are you in pain, John?" she added.
"Yes--not in great pain, but enough. For two weeks I did suffer
horribly."
"John! Oh, my poor Jack! We never knew--is it so bad?"
"Yes, imagine a toothache in your elbow with a variety of torments in the
whole arm."
"I can't imagine. I never had a toothache--in fact, I hardly know the
sensation of serious pain."
"Well, I broke down under it, Leila. I became depressed and quite
foolishly hopeless. Some day I will tell you what helped me out of a
morass of melancholy."
"Tell me now."
"No, I must go to bed. I am getting better and will get off with a stiff
elbow, so Tom says. At first they talked of amputation. That was awful.
Good-night!"
It was none too soon. She was still unsure of herself, and although no
word of tender approach had disturbed her as he talked, and she was glad
of that, the tense look of pain, the reserve of his hospital confession
of suffering nearly broke down her guarded attitude. As he passed out of
view at the turn of the stairs, she murmured, "Oh, if only Uncle Jim were
well."
Josiah came at the call of the bell. She detained him.


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