Лето

           Milessaid:“Youlookill,mydear,andit’salongway.Doyouthinkit’swise?”

           Charitystoodup.“I’vegottogotoher.”

           AvaguemirthlessgrincontractedLiffHyatt’sface,andMr.Milesagainspokeuncertainly.“Youknow,then—you’dbeentold?”

           Shestaredathim.“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.Iwanttogotoher.”

           Mr.Mileswasexaminingherthoughtfully.Shefanciedshesawachangeinhisexpression,andthebloodrushedtoherforehead.“Ijustwanttogotoher,”sherepeated.

           Helaidhishandonherarm.“Mychild,yourmotherisdying.LiffHyattcamedowntofetchme....Getinandcomewithus.”

           Hehelpedheruptotheseatathisside,LiffHyattclamberedinattheback,andtheydroveofftowardHamblin.AtfirstCharityhadhardlygraspedwhatMr.Mileswassaying;thephysicalreliefoffindingherselfseatedinthebuggy,andsecurelyonherroadtotheMountain,effacedtheimpressionofhiswords.Butasherheadclearedshebegantounderstand.SheknewtheMountainhadbutthemostinfrequentintercoursewiththevalleys;shehadoftenenoughhearditsaidthatnooneeverwentupthereexcepttheminister,whensomeonewasdying.Andnowitwashermotherwhowasdying...andshewouldfindherselfasmuchaloneontheMountainasanywhereelseintheworld.Thesenseofunescapableisolationwasallshecouldfeelforthemoment;thenshebegantowonderatthestrangenessofitsbeingMr.Mileswhohadundertakentoperformthisgrimerrand.HedidnotseemintheleastlikethekindofmanwhowouldcaretogouptheMountain.