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Updated: June 21, 2025
Before these callers were gone, the brother of the Widow Steavens, who lived on the Black Hawk road, drew up at our door, and after him came the father of the German family, our nearest neighbors on the south. They dismounted and joined us in the dining-room. They were all eager for any details about the suicide, and they were greatly concerned as to where Mr. Shimerda would be buried.
The lawyer thrust out his hand to Steavens as he passed him, caught up his overcoat in the hall, and had left the house before the Grand Army man had had time to lift his ducked head and crane his long neck about at his fellows. Next day Jim Laird was drunk and unable to attend the funeral services. Steavens called twice at his office, but was compelled to start East without seeing him.
Harling,” I said presently, “I wish I could find out exactly how Ántonia’s marriage fell through.” “Why don’t you go out and see your grandfather’s tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helped Ántonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Ántonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you everything.
Harling, I said presently, 'I wish I could find out exactly how Antonia's marriage fell through. 'Why don't you go out and see your grandfather's tenant, the Widow Steavens? She knows more about it than anybody else. She helped Antonia get ready to be married, and she was there when Antonia came back. She took care of her when the baby was born. She could tell you everything.
And this is how you've come home to me!" As Steavens turned away and closed his eyes with a shudder of unutterable repulsion, another woman, also tall, but flat and angular, dressed entirely in black, darted out of the house and caught Mrs. Merrick by the shoulders, crying sharply: "Come, come, mother; you mustn't go on like this!"
This time Steavens looked fearfully, almost beseechingly into her face, red and swollen under its masses of strong, black, shiny hair. He flushed, dropped his eyes, and then, almost incredulously, looked again.
I found that I remembered the conformation of the land as one remembers the modeling of human faces. When I drew up to our old windmill, the Widow Steavens came out to meet me. She was brown as an Indian woman, tall, and very strong. When I was little, her massive head had always seemed to me like a Roman senator’s. I told her at once why I had come. “You’ll stay the night with us, Jimmy?
She made Harvey's life a hell for him when he lived at home; he was so sick ashamed of it. I never could see how he kept himself sweet." "He was wonderful," said Steavens slowly, "wonderful; but until tonight I have never known how wonderful."
“I thought you’d come, Jim. I heard you were at Mrs. Steavens’s last night. I’ve been looking for you all day.” She was thinner than I had ever seen her, and looked, as Mrs. Steavens said, “worked down,” but there was a new kind of strength in the gravity of her face, and her color still gave her that look of deep-seated health and ardor. Still?
He distrusted men pretty thoroughly and women even more, yet somehow without believing ill of them. He was determined, indeed, to believe the best; but he seemed afraid to investigate." "A burnt dog dreads the fire," said the lawyer grimly, and closed his eyes. Steavens went on and on, reconstructing that whole miserable boyhood.
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