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It hurts me, Charley, but what could I do? It would have been worse to let two women suffer for my condemned folly." Seaforth was in no mood for laughter, but his eyes twinkled faintly. "Two of them? You have been getting on tolerably fast down there, Harry." Alton stopped him with a gesture. "My temper's not what it was a few weeks ago," he said. "Now, you sit still and listen to me."
"I wish I had your endurance." "It is the endurance of desperation. I am staking all I have on this venture." Then, in low-toned intensity, he added: "It hurts me to have you forced to go over and over these lines because of the stupidity of a bunch of cheap little people. Why don't you let me read your part?" "That would not be fair," she answered, quickly "neither to them nor to you.
"Here we are at last. I hasten to finish this rambling letter that it may catch the steamer, which, I am told, leaves to-day. Nine days we have been at sea, and the general impression seems to be that the last part of the passage has been rough. And now I shall be some weeks in Europe I cannot tell how long, but I think the least possible will be three weeks, and the longest six. I shall know, however, in a fortnight. My beloved, it hurts me to stop writing unreasonable animal that I am, for a letter must be finished in order to be posted. I pray you, sweetheart, write me a word of comfort and strength in my journeying. Anything sent to Baring's will reach me; you cannot know what a line from you would be to me, how I would treasure it as the most sacred of things and the most precious, until we meet. And so,
I don't come and see my brother I make him come and see me. This hill of his is impossible I don't see what possesses him. Really, Osmond, you'll be the ruin of my horses some day, and if it hurts them you'll have to give me another pair. I heard them wheezing to-day; I assure you I did.
"Tell it to me, old-timer," said he humbly. "I'm such a wise guy that it hurts me; but something has come off here that's a mile over my head. Tell me; I'm no mind reader." Old Man Curry combed his beard reflectively and gazed through the tack-room door into the dusk of the summer evening. "Son," said he at length, "you never swapped hosses much, did you?"
"One does not feel," she explained; "there is no such thing as feeling: therefore, to speak of a non-existent thing as existent is a contradiction. Matter has no existence; nothing exists but mind; the mind cannot feel pain, it can only imagine it." "But if it hurts, just the same " "It doesn't. A thing which is unreal cannot exercise the functions of reality.
"That's a better sort of strength than swinging twenty-pound dumb-bells or running races; I guess I'll try for that kind, too, and not howl or let her see me squirm when the doctor hurts," thought the boy, as he saw that gentle face so pale and tired with much watching and anxiety, yet so patient, serene, and cheerful, that it was like sunshine.
He spent two or three days in the house, for the islands are generally so healthy that there was not much demand for his services elsewhere. One of my poor shipmates died, I was told, from his hurts. I rapidly got better. Besides the old gentleman and his son and the doctor, an old lady looked in now and then to see me.
"Oh, yas, sah, Massa Tom. I skeered him all right; but suffin else done happen. When I put down de telefoam I got a terrible shock. It hurts yit!" "Well," remarked Tom, "I suppose I ought to feel sorry for you, but I can't. You should let things alone. Now I've got to see if you did any damage. Come along, Ned."
Shirts were her specialty. "This is mine, isn't it?" she declared, tapping her bosom. "And it doesn't bite; it hurts nobody!" "Clemence, put your wrapper on again," said Gervaise. "Madame Putois is right, it isn't decent. People will begin to take my house for what it isn't." So tall Clemence dressed herself again, grumbling the while. "Mon Dieu! There's prudery for you."
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