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Updated: May 17, 2025
She and Dosia went around, straightening up the little drawing-room, making it ready for Girard's occupancy pulling out a big chair for his use, and putting fresh books on the table. The maid had long ago gone to bed, and there was coffee to be made for him he might get hungry in the night. When he came in at last, he brought all the brightness and courage of hope with him.
"'Pears ter me ter be right comical ter hev ter remind ye o' what I promised ter tell ye 'lection day," she said. "Why, 'Dosia," he broke in vehemently, "I hev axed ye twice ter-day, an' I didn't ax ye jes' now 'kase ye hed been hyar so long alone, an' I wanted ter take ye ter yer cousin Anice's ef so be ye wanted ter go." He stopped for a moment.
Theodosia went out and stood looking inscrutably on, while Wesley and Irving hoisted the trunk into the wagon and tied it. Then Wesley came up the porch steps and looked at her. "Dosia," he said a little huskily, "I said I wouldn't ask you to go again, but I will. Will you come with me yet?" "No," said Theodosia gently. He held out his hand. He did not offer to kiss her. "Goodbye, Dosia."
Amazement, incredulity, hope, dread, all flashed in succession over Wesley Brooke's lined face. He raised himself feebly up. "Dosia," he murmured. Theodosia staggered across the room and fell on her knees by the bed. She clasped his head to her breast and kissed him again and again. "Oh, Wes, Wes, can you forgive me? I've been a wicked, stubborn woman and I've spoiled our lives. Forgive me."
Fireflies here and there quivered palely over the flat cornfields at the back of the house. There was a light within, dully showing through the vines at the window. "An' then, 'Dosia," said Justus softly, "when the 'lection is over, it's time fur ye an' me ter git married." She roused herself with an obvious effort, and looked uncomprehendingly at him for a moment, as if she hardly heard.
Shall I pull down the shades?" "No, I'd rather have the light. Please hand me that book over there on the stand," said Lois, holding out her hand for the big, old-fashioned brown volume that Dosia brought to her. "You oughtn't to read; you ought to go to sleep," said Dosia, with tender severity. "I'm not going to read," returned Lois pacifically.
Yet, as Dosia lay there in the dumb stretches of the night, her tired eyes wide open, close to Redge's crib, with his little hot hand clinging to hers, the mere fact of Girard's bodily presence in the house, down-stairs, seemed something overpoweringly insistent; she couldn't get away from it.
At the end of a year Wesley wrote and once more asked her to go out to him. He was getting on well, and was sure she would like the place. It was a little rough, to be sure, but time would improve that. "Won't you let bygones be bygones, Dosia?" he wrote, "and come out to me. Do, my dear wife." Theodosia wrote back, refusing to go. She never got any reply, nor did she write again.
"Wouldn't you go with me, Dosia?" he said, trying to speak lightly. "No, I wouldn't," said Theodosia, in her calm, sweet voice. Her face was serene, but the little wrinkle had grown deeper. Old Jim Parmelee would have known what it meant. He had seen the same expression on old Henry Ford's face many a time. Wesley laughed good-humouredly, as if at a child.
"Air you-uns waitin' fur me, 'Dosia, all by yerse'f?" he demanded hastily, with a contrite intonation. "I 'pear to be all by myse'f," she said, with a playful feigning of uncertainty, glancing about her. She gave a forced laugh, and the constraint in her tone struck his attention. "I 'lowed ez Wat war with ye," he said apologetically. "Air ye ready ter go over ter yer cousin Anice's now?"
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