He
simply shadowed Alice and would not be rebuffed.
There can be nothing more painful to a finely sympathetic nature
than regret for having done a kindness. Alice experienced this to
the fullest degree. She had nursed Farnsworth but a little while,
yet it was a while of sweet influence. Her tender woman nature
felt the blessedness of doing good to her enemy lying helpless in
her house and hurt by her own hand. But now she hated the man, and
with all her soul she was sorry that she had been kind to him; for
out of her kindness he had drawn the spell of a love under which
he lived a new life, and all for her. Yet deep down in her
consciousness the pity and the pathos of the thing hovered
gloomily and would not be driven out.
The rain in mid-winter gave every prospect a sad, cold, sodden
gray appearance. The ground was soaked, little rills ran in the
narrow streets, the small streams became great rivers, the Wabash
overflowed its banks and made a sea of all the lowlands on either
side. It was hard on the poor dwellers in the thatched and mostly
floorless cabins, for the grass roofs gradually let the water
through and puddles formed on the ground inside. Fuel was distant
and had to be hauled in the pouring rain; provisions were scarce
and hunting almost impossible. Many people, especially children,
were taken ill with colds and fever.
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