She would never again know what it was to
feel herself alone. Everything seemed to have grown suddenly clear
and simple. She no longer had any difficulty in picturing herself as
Harney's wife now that she was the mother of his child; and compared to
her sovereign right Annabel Balch's claim seemed no more than a girl's
sentimental fancy.
That evening, at the gate of the red house, she found Ally waiting in
the dusk. "I was down at the post-office just as they were closing up,
and Will Targatt said there was a letter for you, so I brought it."
Ally held out the letter, looking at Charity with piercing sympathy.
Since the scene of the torn blouse there had been a new and fearful
admiration in the eyes she bent on her friend.
Charity snatched the letter with a laugh. "Oh, thank you--good-night,"
she called out over her shoulder as she ran up the path. If she had
lingered a moment she knew she would have had Ally at her heels.
She hurried upstairs and felt her way into her dark room. Her hands
trembled as she groped for the matches and lit her candle, and the flap
of the envelope was so closely stuck that she had to find her scissors
and slit it open.
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