The collapse of mind and body which I underwent in deciding the question of marrying Rowena Fewkes or of keeping unstained and pure the great love of my life, refusing her pitiful plea and passing by on the other side, leaving her desolate and fordone, is a thing to which I hate to confess; for it was a weakness.  Yet, it was the directing fact of that turning-point not only in my own life, but in the lives of many others—­of the life of Vandemark Township, of Monterey County, and of the State of Iowa, to some extent.  The excuse for it lies, as I have said, in the way I am organized; in the bovine dumbness of my life, bursting forth in a few crises in storms of the deepest bodily and spiritual tempest.  I could not and can not help it.  I was weak as a child, as she clasped me in her arms in gratitude when I told her I would do as she wanted me to; and would have fallen again if she had not held me up.

“What’s the matter, Jacob?” she said, in sudden fright at my strange behavior.

“I don’t know,” I gasped.  “I wish I could lay down.”

She was mystified.  She helped me up the hill, telling me all the time how she meant to live so as to repay me for all I had promised to do for her.  She was stronger than I, then, and helped me into the house, which was dark, now, and lighted the lamp; but when she came to me, lying on the bed, she gave a great scream.

“Jake, Jake!” she cried.  “What’s the matter!  Are you dying, my darling?”

“Who, me dying?” I said, not quite understanding her.  “No—­I’m all right—­I’ll be all right, Rowena!”

She was holding her hands up in the light.  They were stained crimson where she had pressed them to my bosom.

“What’s the matter of your hands?” I asked, though I was getting drowsy, as if I had been long broken of my sleep.

“It’s blood, Jacob!  You’ve hurt yourself!”

I drew my hand across my mouth, and it came away stained red.  She gave a cry of horror; but did not lose her presence of mind.  She sponged the blood from my clothes, wiping my mouth every little while, until there was no more blood coming from it.  Presently I dropped off to sleep with my hand in hers.  She awoke me after a while and gave me some warm milk.  As I was drowsing off again, she spoke very gently to me.

“Can you understand what I’m saying?” she asked; and I nodded a yes.  “Do you love her like that?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “I love her like that.”

Presently she lifted my hand to her lips and kissed it.  She was quite calm, now, as if new light had come to her in her darkness; and I thought that it was my consent which had quieted her spirits:  but I did not understand her.

“I can’t let you do it, Jacob,” said she, finally.  “It’s too much to ask....  I’ve thought of another way, my dear....  Don’t think of me or my troubles any more....  I’ll be all right....  You go on loving her, an’ bein’ true to her ... and if God is good as they say, He’ll make you happy with her sometime.  Do you understand, Jacob?”