On Agate Hill Read Online Free PDF Page A

Uncle Junius stands leaning over the back of the blue wing chair or against the mantel, a huge figure of a man whose frock coat hangs on him now as on a scarecrow. His breathing fills any room. Selena Vogell has been a great help to me, he says.
    Well of course, but, Nora Gwyn says.
    I can not say a thing.
    However, I do have a bit of news which may set your mind at rest, at least for the time being. Uncle Junius stops to breathe.
    I can not think what this news could possibly be.
    Yesterdays post brought a letter from my sister Cecelia—
    The one in Alabama, Nora Gwyn says.
    Yes, Uncle Junius says. Her husband died recently, and she is determined to come here for a visit in about a month.
    Nora Gwyn claps her hands. O that will be wonderful. Perhaps she can stay on awhile.
    Well we shall see about that. Sissy always had very definite ideas about everything. Uncle Junius voice has a smile in it now. He says, I suppose it will be good for Molly, in any case. Of course Sissy knew Molly’s mother, Alice, as a girl back in South Carolina.
    Oh really? Nora Gwyn says.
    Alice and I were cousins, Uncle Junius says, and Nora Gwyn says, Oh I had forgotten that.
    Uncle Junius clears his throat. Well we were more than that, he says. In fact I would have married Alice if she would have had me, but she chose Charles Petree instead. He was the more dashing specimen, I suppose.
    I am surprised that Alice chose to come here, then, Nora Gwyn says.
    Alice knew that she could all ways come to me, Uncle Junius said. No one ever said no to Alice, as you may recall. I knew he was smiling.
    But Fannie—
    Fannie was a remarkable woman, Uncle Junius said. Her wisdom andcompassion knew no end. She snatched me out of the darkness that had been my habitual mode, and I followed her in all things, as a beacon. Of course she knew all about Alice. But she pitied poor Alice, and it was at her urging that we took them in, though in all ways it was the correct thing to do. I relied upon Fannie utterly. And now that she is gone, I tell you plainly, I fear I am losing my way. Here he stands breathing and after a time continues, I have had such thoughts, I can not tell you.
    O Junius, Nora says.
    You must turn back to God, Mister Gwyn says.
    Robert, I can not, says Uncle Junius. For any God who has done what he has done is not a God I care to associate with much less worship. Nor would any God worth his salt have anything to do with the likes of me.
    Pray with me now, Junius, Mister Gwyn says.
    I can not. Uncle Junius sounds like the end of the world.
    I shall pray for you then, Mister Gwyn says like it is all up to him.
    And I — for you know that Fannie would not want to see you so disconsolate, Junius. She would not want to see you suffering so.
    And now we must leave, Nora, Mister Gwyn says in the voice people use when they really mean it.
    Oh but where is Molly? she says. Molly! she calls, and then she says, But you must find a way for her to attend school eventually Junius, you do know she is very bright.
    What Molly needs is discipline and a firm hand, says Mister Gwyn.
    No one answers that.
    Nora Ive told you I will do the best I can, but as you have correctly surmised it is all I can do to keep this place going, Uncle Junius says. In fact I am like to lose it. I will tell you frankly, were it not for the cash money Alice left, I should not have paid the tax on Agate Hill these past few years.
    I remembered Fannie saying, Cash is as scarce as hens teeth.
    And now we are at the end, Uncle Junius says in his dark voice.
    Oh but surely, Nora Gwyn says, and then they move to where I can not hear them, until Noras musical voice floats up to me like a song. Good bye, good bye, and it is so stupid, I do not mean to cry, I am a big girl and too old to cry so please excuse me, but I know I will never see her again.
    Every time somebody leaves here, we never see them again.
    I do appreciate all that you have done for her Nora . . .
    Why it has been a pleasure