She had become a very close friend. She was urging me
constantly to take up my residence in Chicago. But I could not leave
without selling the land. I did not wish to sacrifice it. I did not
think it wise to rent it. Indeed I could not rent it and derive the same
income from it that I could by working it myself. I had not yet found a
purchaser who would pay what it was worth.
It was now the autumn of 1840. Sarah had two children beside little
Amos, a boy born in August whom they had named Jonas. Dorothy had come
from Nashville to help Sarah with the heavy household burdens that were
now upon her.
I saw a good deal of Dorothy at Reverdy's; she came to my house on
occasions when I entertained. She was as lovely as ever, but she did not
have Abigail's mind. She was luxurious in her temperament, aristocratic
in her outlook and tastes. She did not stimulate me as Abigail did, but
she involved my emotional nature more powerfully. Something of
resentment fortified my present neutral attitude toward her. Why, after
all, need Zoe have affected her so profoundly? Perhaps my own thinking
was toughened by my experiences. I had killed a man for Zoe; I had been
through a trial with Fortescue. Surely if there had been any bloom on me
it had been rubbed off. Why had not Dorothy seen in me a practical,
courageous heart, who took his fate and made the best of it? Was there
something lacking of depth, of genuineness, in Dorothy's nature?
There was much stirring now in the country due to the campaign.
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