and then mebby she thought the two spans wouldn't mate very well. And
most probable they would have been a pretty cross match. (I mean, that
is, a sort of a melancholy, down-sperited yoke, and if anybody laughs at
it, I would wish 'em to laugh in a sort of a mournful way.)

Wall, Tom Freeman, after Isabelle sot him free, bein' partly mad and
partly heart-broken, as is the way of men who are deep in love, and want
their way, but anyway wantin' to keep out of the sight of the one who,
if he couldn't have her for his own, he wanted to forgit--he packed up
bag and baggage and went West.

Isabelle wouldn't correspond with him, so she told him in that last
hour--still and calm on the outside, and her heart a-bleedin' on the
inside, I dare presoom to say; no, she wanted him to feel free.

What creeters, what creeters wimmen be for makin' martyrs of themselves,
and burnt sacrifices--sometimes I most think they enjoy it, and then
agin I don't know!

But Isabelle acted from a sense of duty, for she jest worshipped the
ground Tom Freeman walked on, so everybody knew, and so she bid adieu to
Tom and Happiness, and lived on.

Wall, one of 'em must stay at home with the old folks, either she or
Christopher Columbus. And when a man and a woman love each other as
Isabelle and Krit did, when wuz it ever the case but what if there wuz
any sacrificin' to do the woman wuz the one to do it.

It is her nater, and I don't know but a real true woman takes as much
comfort in bein' sort o' onhappy for the sake of some one she loves, as