Читать книгу The Blind Man's House. A Quiet Story онлайн

53 страница из 63

'Yes. You liked her, didn't you? Always. You never had a row.'

'Not a single one, sir.'

'And when she was ill you were wonderful. She always said that you made all the difference.'

'I'm very glad of that, sir.'

'Yes. And she still seems to be with me. I'm not a spiritualist, you know, but when you're blind you live in another world. It's easier to imagine that someone's not really dead. Isn't it queer to think that I never saw her? What do you remember now best about her—physically, I mean?'

'Well, sir, she was tall and carried herself beautifully. But what I remember best was her face—the calmness and goodness of it. She was a saint if there ever was one!'

'Yes, she was. She was never angry, never impatient, never in a hurry. And in all that suffering at the end she never complained once. And yet she wasn't a prig. She had a great sense of humour. I never felt dependent on her and yet I knew everything was all right if she was there.'

He paused again, puffing at his pipe. Lizzie Gayner sat upright, sometimes smoothing her black silk dress with her hand.