But
you saw the good, my friend, and to you I come--a woman, now. I do not
know the language of what I feel here"--she pressed her hands to her
heart--"but I feel sure you will understand. I cannot stay in Kenmore!
I do not want to. Always I have wanted to have a bigger place, a larger
opportunity, and even if Kenmore would take me, I will not have Kenmore!
Somehow I feel as if I had never belonged here, really. You do not belong
here. Oh, Master Farwell, can you not come, too?"
As she spoke, the old, weary look passed for an instant from her eyes;
she was a child, daring, yet fearful! Ready to go forward into the dark,
but pleading for a trusted hand to hold. And Farwell, who, could she have
known, was clinging more to her than she to him, almost groaned the one
word:
"No!"
"Why, oh, why, Mr. Farwell? Like father and daughter we could make our
way. I think I have never known what a father might be, but you would
show me now in my great need."
"Hush!" Farwell's eyes held hers commandingly, entreatingly. "You must
hear what I have to say. Why do you think I have stayed in Kenmore? Why
I _must_ stay? Have you thought?"
"No.
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