The dog, delighted
to believe that he had raised up to himself a mistress, followed
humbly at her heel: but always when she stopped, as she did every
few paces, ran round in front of her, and looked up in her face,
as much as to say, "Here I am, mistress! shall I lick again?" If
a dog could create, he would make masters and mistresses. Gladly
would she then have fondled him, but feared the venture; for, it
seemed, were she to stoop, she must fall flat on the road, and
never rise more.
Slowly the two went on, with motion scarce enough to keep the
blood moving in their veins. Had she not been, for all her late
depression, in fine health and strength, Letty could hardly have
escaped death from the cold of that night. For many months after,
some portion of every night she passed in dreaming over again
this dreariest wandering; and in her after life people would be
puzzled to think why Mrs. Helmer looked so angry when any one
spoke as if the animals died outright. But, although she never
forgot this part of the terrible night, she never dreamed of any
rescue from it; memory could not join it on to the next part, for
again she lost consciousness, and could recall nothing between
feeling the dog once more licking her face and finding herself in
bed.
When Beenie opened her kitchen-door in the morning to let in the
fresh air, she found seated on the step, and leaning against the
wall, what she took first for a young woman asleep, and then for
the dead body of one; for, when she gave her a little shake, she
fell sideways off the door-step.
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