Jeff Campbell too began to feel a little his old joy inside him. The
sodden quiet began to break up in him. He leaned far out of the window
to mix it all up with him. His heart went sharp and then it almost
stopped inside him. Was it Melanctha Herbert he had just seen passing
by him? Was it Melanctha, or was it just some other girl, who made him
feel so bad inside him? Well, it was no matter, Melanctha was there
in the world around him, he did certainly always know that in him.
Melanctha Herbert was always in the same town with him, and he could
never any more feel her near him. What a fool he was to throw her from
him. Did he know she did not really love him. Suppose Melanctha was
now suffering through him. Suppose she really would be glad to see
him. And did anything else he did, really mean anything now to him?
What a fool he was to cast her from him. And yet did Melanctha Herbert
want him, was she honest to him, had Melanctha ever loved him, and
did Melanctha now suffer by him? Oh! Oh! Oh! and the bitter water once
more rose up in him.
All that long day, with the warm moist young spring stirring in him,
Jeff Campbell worked, and thought, and beat his breast, and wandered,
and spoke aloud, and was silent, and was certain, and then in doubt
and then keen to surely feel, and then all sodden in him; and he
walked, and he sometimes ran fast to lose himself in his rushing, and
he bit his nails to pain and bleeding, and he tore his hair so that he
could be sure he was really feeling, and he never could know what it
was right, he now should be doing.
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