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your money in this farm, you stay here till you are through.”
She was herself still trembling with fear. Perhaps this would
kill Karen? It was growing dark, she went about the night
chores, when she had finished she came in, lighted a lamp and
looked at the bed. Karen was lying looking a long way before
her, her large cheekbones shone with dried tears, she shook
her head from time to time as if denying many things. She
was not afraid of this pale woman who came to terrify her.
She had come twice a year ever since her father’s death—spy
ing, scenting out, threatening. She had gone further in her
threatening today. Karen understood now the lies Andreas in
his hurt pride must have told. But she could not listen or care
too much, that was just life...other things were troubling
her...she began to cry again. Not till hours after did she
speak to Ola. .. .in the emptiness of the night she could tell
it—in her own tongue, lying with dark thinking eyes. She was
helpless now. She could not be going any more in the night,
as she had gone in all the years since Dorothea died, with bucket
and soap to wash Dorothea’s tombstone: to keep it white.
Walking the long miles to the graveyard, in the night, to do
this for Dorothea. She was old and helpless now. .. .there was
nothing.. .nothing...
OS-ANDERS