see him squirm voyalently, as much as I blamed him and the United States,
and as mad as I was at both on 'em.

So I went to cryin' agin silently under my linen handkerchief, and he
cried into his bandana. It wus a awful blow to both on us.

Wall, she lived, Cicely did, which was more than we any one of us thought
she could do. I went right there, and stayed six weeks with her, hangin'
right over her bed, night and day; and so did his mother,--she a
brokenhearted woman too. Her heart broke, too, by the United States; and
so I told Josiah, that little villain that got killed was only one of his
agents. Yes, her heart was broke; but she bore up for Cicely's sake and
the boy's. For it seemed as if she felt remorsful, and as if it was for
them that belonged to him who had ruined her life, to help her all they
could.

Wall, after about three weeks Cicely begun to live. And so I wrote to
Josiah that I guessed she would keep on a livin' now, for the sake of the
boy.

And so she did. And she got up from that bed a shadow,--a faint, pale
shadow of the girl that used to brighten up our home for us. She was our
sweet Cicely still. But she looked like that posy after the frost has
withered it, and with the cold moonlight layin' on it.

Good and patient she wuz, and easy to get along with; for she seemed to
hold earthly things with a dretful loose grip, easy to leggo of 'em. And
it didn't seem as if she had any interest at all in life, or care for any
thing that was a goin' on in the world, till the boy wus about four years
old; and then she begun to get all rousted up about him and his future.