About the empty cabins and the barns, working on the farms,
wading the mud and water of the river bank, or tingling with cold
on the ice went two Dannies. The one a dull, listless man,
mechanically forcing a tired, overworked body to action, and the
other a self- accused murderer.
"I am responsible for the whole thing," he told himself many
times a day. "I always humored Jimmy. I always took the muddy
side of the road, and the big end of the log, and the hard part
of the work, and filled his traps wi' rats from my own; why in
God's name did I let the Deil o' stubbornness in me drive him to
his death. noo? Why didna I let him have the Black Bass? Why
didna I make him come home and put on dry clothes? I killed him,
juist as sure as if I'd taken an ax and broken his heid."
Through every minute of the exposure of winter outdoors and the
torment of it inside, Dannie tortured himself. Of Mary he seldom
thought at all. She was safe with her sister, and although
Dannie did not know when or how it happened, he awoke one day to
the realization that he had renounced her. He had killed Jimmy;
he could not take his wife and his farm. And Dannie was so numb
with long-suffering, that he did not much care. There come times
when troubles pile so deep that the edge of human feeling is
dulled.
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