Chapter 27
The heels had left two deeply defined gouges in the ground;
there was a sharp hollow where the head had lain, and a broad
depression for the shoulders. It was the impression of the body of
a man—a large man like Wilbur. Any hope, any doubt she might have
had, slipped from her mind, and despair rolled into it with an
even, sullen current, like the motion of the river.
It is strange what we do with our big moments of fear and sorrow
and even of joy. Now Mary stooped and carefully washed out the
coffee-pot, and filled it again with water higher up the bank; and
turned back toward the edge of the trees.
It was all subconscious, this completing of the task which
Wilbur had begun, and subconscious still was her careful rebuilding
of the fire till it flamed high, as though
