That Girl of Johnson's — page 179: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

168 THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S. manner bore as much weight as his words, which were ut- tered clearly and calmly, but which the man was unused to hearing, and which therefore impressed him more than they might have done otherwise, full of meaning and warn- ing as they were. He lay among the pillows with his face turned to the wall, motionless as though he were already dead, his sinewy right hand clutching the covering long after his brother and the doctors left, not knowing that through the half open door Dolores, from the outer room, was watching him with a face as set as his own. her hands clasped pas- sionately, her lips shut close to still the cry that arose from her heart, that found words only in a new, wild, inarticu- late prayer : “God, whom I know not, forgive him—forgive him.” But there was not a trace of this emotion upon her face or in her manner as she stood, a day or two after, at the west window of the library at Judge Green’s, the soft brown dress Dora had fitted for her, falling gracefully around her. Her large brown eyes were fixed on the brilliant sky above the mountain where the gold and crim- son of the sunset were flushing and paling like flags of gauze; her pure, pale face touched by the glow and glim- mer, and her red lips parted as though with some thought she were half tempted to speak. She held back the lace draperies with one arm leaning against the casing of the large French window, and looked like a picture,so quiet she stood, flushed from the light of the sunset above. Dora was sitting on an ottoman at her feet, her delicate face raised to the face above her. Dora said she could sit forever at Dolores’ feet and watch her. Dolores’ face was a study of which one would never tire, which one must study to understand, which one could never fully under- stand. Mrs. Allen was in an adjoining room reading to Mrs. Green. Mrs. Green was a woman one could love ata glance and love always; her sweet old face was flushed with pink, comicbooks.co