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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Smith and the Pharaohs, and other Tales"

At any
rate, he began to whimper and left the room.
There was little in the remark, which was such as a vulgar servant might
well make thoughtlessly. Yet it brought home to Barbara the grim fact
of her loss more completely perhaps than anything had done. Her beloved
husband was dead, of no more account in the world than those who had
passed from it at Eastwich a thousand years ago. He was dead, and soon
would be forgotten by all save her, and she was alone; in her heart
utterly alone.

The summer came and everyone grew cheerful. Aunt Thompson arrived at
the Hall to stay, and urged Barbara to put away past things and resign
herself to the will of Providence--as she had done in the case of the
departed Samuel.
"After all," she said, "it might have been worse. You might have been
called upon to nurse an invalid for twenty years, and when at last he
went, have found the best part of your life gone, as I did," and she
sighed heavily. "As it is, you still look quite a girl, having kept your
figure so well; you are comfortably off and have a good position, and in
short there is no knowing what may happen in the future. You must come
up and stay with me this winter, dear, instead of poking yourself away
in this damp old house, where everybody seems to die of consumption.


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