human
Your voice is tired, he said one day; they had been reading Olive Schreiner’s
gpt
Dreams.
human
Oh, no, I’m not tired, only the little Lost Joy sort of filled me up.
gpt
But it’s infernally true, Norval went on,
human
Are you a big young person, or a little one?
gpt
Why, I’m thin, but I’m quite tall.
human
You think me rude, presuming?
gpt
Oh! no, Mr. Norval. I was only wishing I was, well—rather nicer to talk about.
human
You know, here in the dark where I live now, one has to imagine a lot. Lately I’ve wanted to know exactly—exactly as words can portray, just how you look. Andy?
gpt
Yes, Jim. What’s up?
human
Come here.
gpt
Tell me how Miss Walden looks. I want to place her. She has a ghastly habit of escaping me when I’m alone and thinking her over. I can’t seem to fix her.
human
Well, Law stood off and regarded Donelle seriously,
gpt
She’s red headed and thin. She ought to be fed up. I don’t believe she can stand the city in summer. She doesn’t walk very well, she’s at her best when running.
human
Oh! Mr. Law.
gpt
Well, you are. I’ve caught you running two or three times on the street. You looked as if you had your beginnings in wide spaces and could not forget them.
human
I—I am a country girl, the practical young voice almost broke.
gpt
I hate the city. Maybe I do run sometimes. I always feel that something is after me.
human
What?
gpt
I cannot describe it. I read a child’s story once about a Kicker. It was described as a big, round thing with feet pointing in every direction. One didn’t stand a chance when the Kicker got after him. The city seems like that to me. The round thing is full of noise, noise, noise; it just hurls itself along on its thousands of feet. I do run when I get thinking of it.
human
Law, he asked presently,
gpt
No, he said contemplatively,
human
I suppose you’ll go away when summer comes?
gpt
And you?
human
No. I’ll stay on here. I mean to get a man to look after me. I’m going to send Law on an errand.
gpt
I wish, Donelle’s eyes were filled with the yellow glow so like sunlight.
human
I wish, Mr. Norval, that you would try to walk. Your masseur says you are better.
gpt
What’s the use, Miss Walden? At the best it would mean a crutch or a cane. I couldn’t bring myself to that. A dog would be better, but I never saw but one dog I’d cotton to for the job.
human
Where is that dog, Mr. Norval?
gpt
The Lord knows. Gone to the heaven of good, faithful pups, probably.
human
Mr. Norval?
gpt
Yes, Miss Walden.
human
I wish, while Mr. Law is out every morning for his airing, that you would try—you could lean on my shoulder—to walk! Just think how surprised he’d be some day to find you on your feet by the north window.
gpt
Would that please you, Miss Walden, to act the part of a nice little dog leading a blind man?
human
I’d love it! And you must remember, your doctor says your eyes are better. Mr. Norval, here the words came with almost cruel sternness,
gpt
I think it is—it is cowardly for you not to try and make the best of things. Even if you can’t see very well, or walk very well, you have no right to hold back from doing the best you can! It is mean and small.
human
You may be right. I begin to feel I am not going to die!
gpt
The shock is passing, Donelle’s voice softened.
human
You will recover, I know you will—if you are brave.
gpt
The shock! Good God, the shock! It was like hell let loose. For months I heard the splitting noise, the hot sand in my face——!
human
Don’t talk of it, Mr. Norval. Please let me help you to your feet. Just a few steps.