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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton


63

Well, she could go back to her people, then, and see what they
would do for her. It was the fate she was forcing on Mattie-why
not let her try it herself? By the time she had discovered his
whereabouts, and brought suit for divorce, he would probably-
wherever he was-be earning enough to pay her a sufficient
alimony. And the alternative was to let Mattie go forth alone, with
far less hope of ultimate provision...

He had scattered the contents of the table-drawer in his search for a
sheet of paper, and as he took up his pen his eye fell on an old copy
of the Bettsbridge Eagle. The advertising sheet was folded
uppermost, and he read the seductive words: “Trips to the West:
Reduced Rates.” He drew the lantern nearer and eagerly scanned
the fares; then the paper fell from his hand and he pushed aside his
unfinished letter. A moment ago he had wondered what he and
Mattie were to live on when they reached the West; now he saw
that he had not even the money to take her there. Borrowing was
out of the question: six months before he had given his only
security to raise funds for necessary repairs to the mill, and he
knew that without security no one at Starkfield would lend him ten
dollars. The inexorable facts closed in on him like prison-warders
handcuffing a convict. There was no way out-none. He was a
prisoner for life, and now his one ray of light was to be
extinguished.

He crept back heavily to the sofa, stretching himself out with limbs
so leaden that he felt as if they would never move again. Tears rose
in his throat and slowly burned their way to his lids.

As he lay there, the window-pane that faced him, growing
gradually lighter, inlaid upon the darkness a square of moon-
suffused sky. A crooked tree-branch crossed it, a branch of the
apple-tree under which, on summer evenings, he had sometimes
found Mattie sitting when he came up from the mill. Slowly the
rim of the rainy vapours caught fire and burnt away, and a pure
moon swung into the blue. Ethan, rising on his elbow, watched the
landscape whiten and shape itself under the sculpture of the moon.
This was the night on which he was to have taken Mattie coasting,
and there hung the lamp to light them! He looked out at the slopes
bathed in lustre, the silver-edged darkness of the woods, the
spectral purple of the hills against the sky, and it seemed as though
all the beauty of the night had been poured out to mock his
wretchedness...

He fell asleep, and when he woke the chill of the winter dawn was
in the room. He felt cold and stiff and hungry, and ashamed of
being hungry. He rubbed his eyes and went to the window. A red
sun stood over the grey rim of the fields, behind trees that looked
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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton



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