Eunice Carr was
alone with her dead.
They buried Christopher Holland in haste and privacy the next
day. The doctor disinfected the house, and Eunice was to stay
there alone until it might be safe to make other arrangements.
She had not shed a tear; the doctor thought she was a rather odd
person, but he had a great admiration for her. He told her she
was the best nurse he had ever seen. To Eunice, praise or blame
mattered nothing. Something in her life had snapped--some vital
interest had departed. She wondered how she could live through
the dreary, coming years.
Late that night she went into the room where her mother and
brother had died. The window was open and the cold, pure air was
grateful to her after the drug-laden atmosphere she had breathed
so long. She knelt down by the stripped bed.
"Mother," she said aloud, "I have kept my promise."
When she tried to rise, long after, she staggered and fell across
the bed, with her hand pressed on her heart. Old Giles Blewett
found her there in the morning. There was a smile on her face.
XIII. THE CONSCIENCE CASE OF DAVID BELL
Eben Bell came in with an armful of wood and banged it cheerfully
down in the box behind the glowing Waterloo stove, which was
coloring the heart of the little kitchen's gloom with tremulous,
rose-red whirls of light.
"There, sis, that's the last chore on my list. Bob's milking.
Nothing more for me to do but put on my white collar for meeting.
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