“We know, Azalea, many things which you, perhaps, do not give us credit for knowing. We know that you are full of ambition and that the life here seems meaningless to you. Life has trained you in a different school from what it has us. We believe if you had waited, you would have come to see opportunities for great good in this life here, but since it truly does not appeal to you, I for one think you ought to be allowed to go your way and live the life you like. I know—we know—that there lies behind this resolution your determination to have a free choice in other matters than your vocation. Am I not right in this?”
“Yes,” I said, and found the courage to look straight into her eyes.
“I do not blame you,” she said. “I married the man I loved, and I believe every woman should do that if she can.”
“At any price?” asked Uncle David, looking first at me and then at her.
“Oh, at any price consistent with honor,” she said.
“The price you pay is a large one,” he said to me. “I doubt if you appreciate how large.”
“It would mean nothing to me if my heart always hung heavily in me,” I said.
They are very tender with me. They deeply regret the conditions of the will, but they have no power to change them. As for me, I do not wish any change made. I want all left as my little grandmother desired. I resent nothing. I have too much for which to be thankful.
Carin, it seems incredible, but in a few days I shall be at Lee. I will wire you when I am coming. Ride up to see Mother McBirney. Let her know everything. Tell everyone I am coming home. Oh, how my heart beats at thought of it! I can write no more. I cannot see my page for these silly tears.
Just a line to say that I am safe here and am sending Semmy back to you with many, many thanks. She asked to stay with me, but it was, I fancy, more to compliment me than for any other reason. I would not keep her, of course. She belongs to Mallowbanks, does dear good Greenville Female Seminary Simms. May heaven bless her. I hated to part with her.
Dear me, how many kinds of homesickness one may have. When I was away from Lee I was longing for it; now that I am here I love to dream of Mallowbanks. Still, I am glad I am here. There is work awaiting me. In fact, it is piled high, and someone was desperately needed to take hold of it. Lee is bulging with nice visitors with fashionable-looking purses, and they are wild to do things and spend money. They would rather purchase these mountain products than anything else, because they are such quaint souvenirs of this lovely place. But, alas, all is in confusion in the little shop. The weavers have been lazy, the basket-makers must have been wool gathering, the pottery makers have all been getting married—just like Ma Kitchell—and there is, to say the least, the dickens to pay.