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Show page 115 and then she plays the harp, the old favorite, of a cross on another h i l l . I t ' s mellow-toned, it says, and makes the leaves of the oak r u s t l e in perfect note. I s n ' t that something! It begins to rain. Neither of them notice u n t i l coming at them is a solid gray sheet of water. Almond grabs Rebecca and the harp and s t r i k e s out the eighty yards or more to the house. Halfway he drops the harp, sweeps Rebecca up and runs f a s t e r . She bawls for the harp, slips from him and goes back t o get i t . He goes back. Mud begins to pull at them, with the harp and her high-buttoned shoes. He shields her best he can. At the veranda, Mrs. Wilhoyt, Rebecca's mother, meets them with an umbrella. But the damage has been done. That poor g i r l gets to the hallway, sways, coughs a t e r r i b l e cough and f a l l s to that fine old oak floor. Everybody's f r a n t i c , putting p l a s t e r s on her, but she don't regain consciousness." Durango paused. "I d i d n ' t know a l l t h i s myself. Mulberry Dillard, for five bucks apiece, provides me most of these, from his old newspaper f i l e s and his daddy's f i l e s . Let's go on." He began reading again: "Rebecca passes away during the night, with thunder and lightning rumbling and flashing. Young Almond is never the same. His law business dwindles away. He walks the s t r e e t s unshaven, his clothes sloppy. Don't anybody know how bad off he i s . When the next storm comes, he climbs in his buggy and hurries out to the big oak t r e e . He curses the r a i n . He curses God. His horse is run away by now, scared of the storm, and him too probablv. It savs here his mind i s a dark, disillusioned well |
