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148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
136
“Yes,
ma'am,
I'm
one
that
has
seen
trouble,”
he
said,
and
began
to
knit
again.
The
visible
tribute
of
his
careful
housekeeping,
and
the
clean
bright
room
which
had
once
enshrined
his
wife,
and
now
enshrined
her
memory,
was
very
moving
to
me;
he
had
no
thought
for
any
one
else
or
for
any
other
place.
I
began
to
see
her
myself
in
her
home,--a
delicate-looking,
faded
little
woman,
who
leaned
upon
his
rough
strength
and
affectionate
heart,
who
was
always
watching
for
his
boat
out
of
this
very
window,
and
who
always
opened
the
door
and
welcomed
him
when
he
came
home.
“I
used
to
laugh
at
her,
poor
dear,”
said
Elijah,
as
if
he
read
my
thought.
“I
used
to
make
light
of
her
timid
notions.
She
used
to
be
fearful
when
I
was
out
in
bad
weather
or
baffled
about
gittin'
ashore.
She
used
to
say
the
time
seemed
long
to
her,
but
I've
found
out
all
about
it
now.
I
used
to
be
dreadful
thoughtless
when
I
was
a
young
man
and
the
fish
was
bitin'
well.
I'd
stay
out
late
some
o'
them
days,
an'
I
expect
she'd
watch
an'
watch
an'
lose
heart
a-waitin'.
My
heart
alive!
what
a
supper
she'd
git,
an'
be
right
there
watchin'
from
the
door,
with
somethin'
over
her
head
if
'twas
cold,
waitin'
to
hear
all
about
it
as
I
come
up
the
field.
Lord,
how
I
think
o'
all
them
little
things!”
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