Willy came back soon afterwards, and helped her to wheel his mother in
her chair to her place by the hearth. He had regained his wonted
composure, and spoke to her as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Perhaps it had been something like a dream, all this that haunted her.
Willy was speaking cheerfully enough. Just then her father came into
the kitchen, and slunk away silently to a seat in the remotest corner
of the wide ingle. Willy went out almost immediately. Everything was
in a maze. Could it be that she had seemed to say No?
Rotha was rudely awakened from her trance by the entrance at this
moment of the parson of the chapel on the Raise. The present was the
first visit the Reverend Nicholas Stevens had paid since the day of
the funeral. He had heard of the latest disaster which had befallen
the family at the Moss. He had also learned something of the paralytic
seizure which the disaster had occasioned. He could not any longer put
away the solemn duty of visitation. To take the comfort of his
presence, to give the light of his countenance to the smitten, was a
part of his sacred function.
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