OCR Text |
Show our pains. I must be disciplined. Each night before bed I read the letters over by the fire, the beautiful letters, more something to him, perhaps, than me; or I tell the children stories about Bristol, or the cottage at Clevedon; and it is worse. Winter's close. The youngest has been coughing for a week, and a feeling of death bores into me I can't withdraw. It has been so long since last word came that it's become difficult to even gauge the passing of the days. Just this afternoon I encountered a young woman crossing Parrett Bridge, trailing her hand slowly along the railing like someone dragging the river for a body. And when I looked away the stars were out, moonlight had fallen around me like a violet snow, and 1 was surprised by my husband's presence walking beside me. And I could not understand him in my widow's heart. |