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I would see her dead a thousand times first. I hope she is dead, for she is the torment of my life. What is it that smells so queer?" His eyes again rested on the letter. A suspicion crossed his mind. He carried the letter to his nose, and then started violently, uttering awful oaths. "She has sent the contagion directly to me," he groaned, and he threw poor Zell's appeal on the grate.
So Hannibal concluded his simple, but most effective, service by kneeling down by his pulpit, the rosebush, and praying: "Bressed Jesus, guv dis dear chile a new heart, 'cause she wants it, and you wants her to hab it. Make it pure and full of lub. You can do it, dear Jesus. You knows you can. Now, jes please do it. Amen." Zell's responsive "Amen" was like a note from an AEolian harp.
Therefore, as the miseries of her condition in the country increased, Zell's pride failed her, and she began to be willing to risk all to get away, and when she felt the pinch of hunger she became almost desperate.
"It would have been better if we had all died then,", said Mrs. Allen drearily, and becoming quiet. Edith's words fell like a chill upon her unwontedly stirred heart, and old habits of feeling and action resumed sway. With Mrs. Allen's words ended the miserable day of Zell's flight. Hannibal's words were true.
As we have said, on Edith's naming a day on which she would be absent on the forlorn mission that would only put off the day of utter want a little longer, the temptation took definite shape in Zell's mind to write at once to Van Dam, acceding to his shameful conditions.
Away went the crazy rattling old automaton round and round the garden in spite of all she could do. She was half beside herself with vexation, which was increased by Zell's convulsed laughter on the porch, but she stormed at the old plowman as vainly as a robin might remonstrate with a windmill. "Mr.
Mr. Van Dam drank freely, but he was seasoned to more fiery potations than sherry. Not so poor Gus, who, while he could never resist the wine, soon felt its influence. But he had sufficient control never to go beyond the point of tipsiness that fashion allows in the drawing-room. Of course through Zell's unrestrained chatter the recently made plans soon came out. Adroit Mr.
Admiration followed her like a torrent, and her vanity dilated without measure as attention and compliments were almost forced upon her, and yet it was frank, good-natured vanity, as naturally to be expected in her case as a throng of gaudy poppies where a handful of seed had been dropped. Zell's nature was a soil where good or bad seed would grow vigorously. Mr.
Edith's efforts still to help Zell to better things were very pathetic, considering how unhappy and tempted she was herself. She did try, even when her own heart was breaking, to bring peace and hope to the poor creature, but she was taught how vain her efforts were, in her present mood, by Zell's saying, sharply: "Physician, heal thyself."
Indeed, Edith was becoming very much what she was before Zell ran away, only in addition there was something akin, at times, to Zell's own hardness and recklessness, and one day she said to Edith: "What is the matter? You are becoming like me." Edith fled to her room, and sobbed and cried and tried to pray till her strength was gone.
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