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I was always sensitive to the sight, the smell, even to the very mention of the word blood." So was I, but not to the point of cowardice. But then I had not just come from an interview with the murdered woman. Her glances, her smiles, the lift of her eyebrows were not fresh memories to me. Some consideration was certainly due him for the shock he must be laboring under.
Let us sit here while you retell the story. Perchance we will play boy and girl again." "You remember that?" "Do I not!" he laughed pleasantly. "There were few pleasant memories I took with me into the wilderness, yet that was one. Ay, but we talked freely enough then, and there is naught since in my life to bring loss of faith. 'Tis my wish to serve you, be it with wit or blade."
He looked out on its silvery bars shimmering in the moonlight, and a flood of memories swept upon him. Thirty years was not so long ago that he could not remember the beautiful mother who had told him stories as the sun went down and bedtime drew near.
"I suppose it was a dreadful thing to say," said William, "but I just burst out and said that if ever there was an excuse for divorce, she had it!" "What did she say?" "Oh, of course, that she hadn't been divorced. I was ashamed of myself the next minute for speaking of such a thing." "Poor child," said Dr. Lavendar, "living up there alone, and with such memories!
There was daylight, too, but it was dull winter daylight, from the north, while the walls of the room were a deep, unreflecting red. He began that morning with some memories of the Comstock mine; then he dropped back to his childhood, closing at last with some comment on matters quite recent.
But with the Far Oriental the exorcising feeling was fear. He never fell in love with his own mythological creations, and so he never embalmed their memories. They were to him but explanations of facts, and had no claims upon his fancy. His ideal world remained as utterly impersonal as if it had never been born. The same impersonality reappears in the matter of number.
Life apart from each other was a tame, spiritless thing, simply to be endured, not enjoyed; then, too, Uncle Joshua's home was not a Paradise, although he and Aunt Patty were kind and pleasant. Faith had vivid memories of a few weeks spent there soon after her marriage.
And oh, how dear and beloved everything was that little white porch room, sacred to the dreams of girlhood, the old Snow Queen at the window, the brook in the hollow, the Dryad's Bubble, the Haunted Woods, and Lover's Lane all the thousand and one dear spots where memories of the old years bided. Could she ever be really happy anywhere else?
We feel that we know her life, from ill-used childhood to her proud matronhood; we know her home, her school, her professional duties, her loves and hates, her agonies and her joys, with that intense familiarity and certainty of vision with which our own personal memories are graven on our brain.
In the generation that followed the War of 1812 intercourse with the United States was discouraged and was remarkably insignificant. Official policy and the memories of 1783 and 1812 alike built up a wall along the southern border.
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