REUBEN
Deep, hollow, sad, look’d truly into hers.
“Sarah! I have no money. Before God
I have not! Sure you'll promise, Sarah? For
She was your sister.”
“And she was your wife,
And now you'll grudge the burying of her. Shame!
Shame on you, Reuben! Everybody knows
What kind of roots lie in your garden there.”
“Folks say what say they will, I wot—'tis God
Knows.” His voice broke a little. Then he said:
“‘He’s yet a good step off. I'll tell ye all.
When I’d to quit my calling, and we'd paid
To put the place right (for the agent’s hard
And I was fain to live here), we had left
No more but just enough. It would have been
Enough; what with the garden and the bees
And doing of such work as old folk can,
We look’d to live on quiet a good while,
And then die quiet. Had it pleas’d God so,
There’d ha’ been plenty. But it’s been His will
This way; and there’s been doctor, and the drugs
And food and such. I tried to stretch it out:—
You know if I’ve lived close: but her club stopp’d;
An’ mine, I’ve had to slip ’em one by one,
An’ she lived longer nor I’d reckon’d for.
All’s gone—Praise God! she’ll never need to know,
Now.”
35
