Suddenly he rose and stood erect and his wild eyes stricken with death stared full upon Emma. Slowly and thickly he spoke, working his trembling hands.
‚ÄúNell‚ÅÝ‚ÄîNell! Is it you, little wife, come back to accuse me? Ah, Nell, don‚Äôt shrink! I know‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI have sinned against the light and the blood of your poor black people is red on these old hands. No, don‚Äôt put your clean white hands upon me, Nell, till I wash mine. I‚Äôll do it, Nell; I‚Äôll atone. I‚Äôm a Cresswell yet, Nell, a Cresswell and a gen‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù He swayed. Vainly he struggled for the word. The shudder of death shook his soul, and he passed.
A week after the funeral of Colonel Cresswell, John Taylor drove out to the school and was closeted with Miss Smith. His sister, installed once again for a few days in her old room at the school, understood that he was conferring about Emma’s legacy, and she was glad. She was more and more convinced that the marriage of Emma and Bles was the best possible solution of many difficulties. She had asked Emma once if she liked Bles, and Emma had replied in her innocent way,
“Oh, so much.”
As for Bles, he was often saying what a dear child Emma was. Neither perhaps realized yet that this was love, but it needed, Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell was sure, only the lightning-flash, and they would know. And who could furnish that illumination better than Zora, the calm, methodical Zora, who knew them so well?
As for herself, once she had accomplished the marriage and paid the mortgage on the school out of her legacy, she would go abroad and in travel seek forgetfulness and healing. There had been no formal divorce, and so far as she was concerned there never would be; but the separation from her husband and America would be forever.