Now with the wailing of the violin her soul grew hungry and sad, and a strange, unchildish fear crept over her, a fear of the years to come-so long and endless they would be, always coming, coming, one after another; and here she was, never to stop living, and every day doing something that she ought not and every evening repenting it-and her father might stop loving her, and her sister might stop loving her, and her little brother might stop loving her, and Bobby might die-and even her mother might die or stop loving her, and she might grow up and marry a man who forgot after a while to love her-and she might be very poor-even poorer than they were now, and have to wash dishes every day and no one to help her-until at last she could bear the sadness no longer, and could not repent as hard as she ought, there where she could not go down on her knees and just cry and cry.
"The Eye of Dread"
Payne Erskine
He saw again that terrible look of sadness as if his soul were dying within him.
"The Eye of Dread"
Payne Erskine
Have you never a sadness?
"The Eye of Dread"
Payne Erskine