I am not wanted here, I have nothing to live
for, and I wish that I had died!"
"Some day you will think differently, Miss Granger. There are many
things that a woman like yourself can live for--at the least, there is
your work."
She laughed drearily. "My work! If you only knew what it is like you
would not talk to me about it. Every day I roll my stone up the hill,
and every night it seems to roll down again. But you have never taught
in a village school. How can you know? I work all day, and in the
evening perhaps I have to mend the tablecloths, or--what do you
think?--write my father's sermons. It sounds curious, does it not, that
I should write sermons? But I do. I wrote the one he is going to preach
next Sunday. It makes very little difference to him what it is so long
as he can read it, and, of course, I never say anything which can offend
anybody, and I do not think that they listen much. Very few people go to
church in Bryngelly."
"Don't you ever get any time to yourself, then?"
"Oh, yes, sometimes I do, and then I go out in my canoe, or read, and am
almost happy.
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