Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt

Author:Irene Hunt
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

7

Dr. Jonathan Eltwing did not forgive easily. I soon learned that he would not be quick in forgetting my behavior on that day when he and his wife first called on us, and I knew that I couldn’t blame him. I admired and respected the huge, sad-eyed scholar who was equally kind to Aunt Cordelia and to his sad little wife, but it was a long time before he was anything but cool and distant toward me.

The Eltwings had established themselves in a pleasant old house about three miles from Aunt Cordelia’s, shortly after their initial visit to us. It was as lonely and isolated as ours, but much smaller and out of keeping with the handsome furnishings they had sent out from the East. People wondered what had brought Jonathan Eltwing back to our part of the country after so many years in which he had apparently forgotten his birth-place. No one was ever quite sure although it was generally believed that he had sought out a place where he could shield his wife from curious eyes and tongues. Mrs. Peters had her own idea which she confided to me. “Sometimes old memories have a strong pull, Julie. I can’t say this to many people, but it’s my own conviction that Jonathan Eltwing has never been able to forget the winter he and Cordelia were eighteen.”

Whatever the reason for their return, they were a sad and tragic couple. Within a few months after their arrival, it was obvious that the state of Katy Eltwing’s mind was worsening. She was fearful when neighbors called in the casual, friendly way of country people; sometimes she strayed from home and had been found, frightened and bewildered, in the adjacent fields and woods. The housekeeper from town gossiped of days when Mrs. Eltwing sat at the piano and wept because her hands had lost their skill; she told how Jonathan Eltwing would leave his work to hold the distraught woman in his arms, soothing and comforting her until she forgot her sorrow.

Often when his wife was safely under the care of others, Jonathan would come down to Aunt Cordelia’s and sit before the fire, talking quietly with her, sometimes leaning his head against the back of the chair as if he savored a tranquil moment removed from care. He spoke politely to me on these occasions, but that was all; he never saw Uncle Haskell nor did he ever ask of him. My uncle and I did not share Aunt Cordelia’s place in the affection of our new neighbor.

There came an autumn night of fog and mist just a year after the Eltwings’ arrival, however, when it was necessary for Jonathan Eltwing to talk to Uncle Haskell and to me.

It was on one of those rare occasions when Aunt Cordelia had gone into town to attend a lecture with Father and Alicia. I was up in my room polishing off the last of my homework when I heard Uncle Haskell’s voice, its habitual jauntiness submerged in anxiety.

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