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Updated: May 15, 2025
Such questions can not be decided in a moment. Then, with a certain consciousness of doing right, I answered earnestly: "To no one but to Mr. Ocumpaugh do I feel called upon to disclose what really concerns no one but yourself and him." Her hands rose toward me in a gesture which may have been an expression of gratitude or only one of simple appeal. "He is not due until Saturday," I added gently.
It broke my heart, and when she disappeared in that mysterious way and and one of her shoes was found on the slope, what was I to think but that she had chosen to end her misery this child! this babe I had loved as my own flesh and blood! in the river where she had been forbidden to go?" "Suicide by a child of six! You gave another reason for your persistent belief, at the time, Mrs. Ocumpaugh."
Ocumpaugh had gone into hysterics. Do you know what they meant by that? I was just going over to see." I did know what they meant, but I preferred to seem ignorant. "I have not seen Mrs. Ocumpaugh," I evasively rejoined. "But I don't look for the child to be drawn from the water." "Nor I," she repeated, with a hoarse catch in her breath. "It is thirty-six hours since we lost her.
In spite of the despair thus expressed my way seemed to open a little. "I think I can break Mrs. Ocumpaugh's dangerous apathy if you will let me see her again. Will you let me try?" "The nurse we have a nurse now will not consent, I fear." "Then telephone to the doctor. Tell him I am the only man who can do anything for Mrs. Ocumpaugh. This will not be an exaggeration." "Wait!
"True! but do you think I shall stop because of that?" He did not look as if he would stop because of anything. "Do you not think Mrs. Ocumpaugh worthy some pity? Her future is a ghastly one, whichever way you look at it." "She sinned," was his uncompromising reply. "The wages of sin is death." "But such death!" I protested; "death of the heart, which is the worst death of all."
She was shocked, of course, and she was grieved, but not hopelessly so. There was something lacking in her manner we all felt it; Mrs. Ocumpaugh felt it, and let her dear friend go the moment she showed the slightest inclination to do so." "There were excuses for Mrs. Carew, just at that time," said I. "You forget the new interest which had come into her life.
Then as the paper rattled in her hand and I saw her eyes fall in terror on it, I said as calmly and respectfully as I could: "You have a secret, Mrs. Ocumpaugh; that secret I share." The paper trembled from her clasp and fell fluttering downward. I pointed at it and waited till our eyes met, possibly that I might give her some encouragement from my look if not from my words.
Ocumpaugh remember that when the evil days come. She had separated child from mother! child from mother! Oh, how the wail swept through those two rooms! I dared not prophesy to myself at this point how this would end. I simply waited. Their voices had sunk after each passionate outbreak, and I was only able to catch now and then a word which told me that the struggle was yet going on.
Ocumpaugh's deep distress: "Don't feel bad, mamma, you shall come see me some time. Papa will send for you. I am going to him." Then silence, then such a struggle of woman-heart with woman-heart as I hope never to be witness to again. Mrs. Ocumpaugh was pleading with Mrs. Carew, not for the child, but for her life. Mr.
Carew is the true friend she professes to be to Mrs. Ocumpaugh?" "Ah, that is a different thing!" The clear brow I loved there! how words escape a man! lost its smoothness and her eyes took on a troubled aspect, while her words came slowly. "I do not know how to answer that offhand. Sometimes I have felt that her very soul was knit to that of Mrs. Ocumpaugh, and again I have had my doubts.
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