her mind, different from the calm of the last three days.
And then, for the first time, it struck her that the bills were all made out to Jim.
James Bixby,
- to Hiram Rogers, Dr.
- to James Wilkins, Dr.
- to Fields & Lyman, Dr.
- to James Wilkins, Dr.
It was his name that would have been disgraced, not hers; his memory would have been stained. She turned white with terror of the danger past.
After a while she put the bills aside, and drew out her folios of pressed flowers. It seemed a hundred years since she had worked upon them. How exquisite they were, those delicate ghosts of flowers;—the regal columbine, the graceful gilia, coreopsis gleaming golden, anemones, pale and soft. How they kept their loveliness when life was past! They were only flower memories, but how fair they were, and how lasting! No frost to blight them, no winds to tear their silken petals any more! Well might they outlast the hand that pressed them!
And soon Marietta found herself doing the old, accustomed work with all the old skill, and
