roger bevins iii
I leapt to my feet, raced over, plucked the lad away from Mr. Bevins, dashed off toward the chapel, and, just before I was again overrun, managed to fall forward, through the northernmost side-wall.
I know this place, the lad mumbled.
I expect you do, I said. We all know it.
For many of us, the chapel had served as our portal; our place of disembarkation; the last place we had ever been taken seriously.
hans vollman
The earth around the chapel began to roil.
Even here? I said. Outside this most holy place?
Holy, unholy, all the same to us, said the Brit.
Have a job to do, said the Vermonter.
Are compelled, said the woman.
Go in, send him out, said the Brit.
You merely delay, said the Vermonter.
We are gathering our strength, said the Brit.
Shall be in shortly, said the woman.
With a vengeance, said the Vermonter.
Send him out, snapped the lisper.
roger bevins iii
Mr. Bevins had just stepped in through the wall when, from the darkness at the front of the chapel, a pronounced manly throat-clearing told us we were not alone.
Mr. Lincoln sat in the front row of chairs, where he must have sat during the previous day’s service.
hans vollman
LXXXIII.
Tom as we neared front gate Pres catching sight of chapel said he thought he might go over and sit in that quiet place a bit if I did not mind and confided in me that he felt his boy was still here with him and could not shake that feeling but perhaps a few minutes sitting silent in that place of prayer might do the trick.
Declined my offer of lantern saying he would not need it for he saw pretty good in the dark and always had and went off through that very space only yesterday filled with the many hundreds standing on the lawn in the drizzle in their black coats and upraised umbrellas and the sounds of the sad organ from within and I returned to guardhouse which is where I am now writing this while outside his poor little horse’s eager hoofs sound against the cobblestone as if his master’s proximity causing him to do a stationary horse dance preparatory to long ride home.
Pres in chapel yet.
Manders, op. cit.
LXXXIV.
The stained-glass windows responded dully but substantially to the dim moonlight shining through them.
hans vollman
Suffusing all with a bluish tint.
roger bevins iii All but the first few rows of chairs had been removed since the previous day’s service, and these were somewhat disordered.
hans vollman
Mr. Lincoln sat facing forward, legs thrown out before him, hands clasped in his lap, head lowered.
For a moment I thought he might be sleeping.
But then, as if intuiting our entry, he roused himself and looked around.
roger bevins iii Curious individuals from across the premises were pouring in through the chapel walls like water through a bad mud dam.
Go in, I said to the lad.
hans vollman
The boy blinked twice.
Went in.
roger bevins iii By making to sit in his father’s lap.
hans vollman
As he must often have done in that previous place.
roger bevins iii Seated one inside the other now, they occupied the same physical space, the child a contained version of the man.
hans vollman
LXXXV.
(Father Here I am
What should I
If you tell me to go I will If you tell me stay I will I wait upon your advice Sir) I listened for Father’s reply The moonlight swelled All became more blue ish Father’s mind was blank blankblankblank And then I cannot believe all of this has actually He began remembering Reviewing Certain things About me Concerning my illness What was the name of that woman whose daughter was struck by lightning. In Ponce’s hayfield. Just before, walking through, the two of them had been talking about peaches. The different varieties of peaches. Which kind each preferred. For nights after, they found her wandering Ponce’s, mumbling about peaches, searching for that juncture of the conversation at which she might jump the breach of time and go back, push the girl aside, take the fatal bolt herself. She could not accept that it had happened, but must go over it and over it.
Now I understand.
That afternoon he brought in five rocks on a tray. Meant to try to find the scientific name of each. The rocks are on that tray yet. In the hallway windowsill near his room. (I believe I shall never be able to move them.) Toward dusk I found him sitting on the stairs, tray on his knees.
Well, I don’t feel so good today, he said.
I put my hand on his head.
Burning.
willie lincoln
LXXXVI.
The fever, which had been diagnosed as a cold, developed into typhoid.
Leech, op. cit.
Typhoid works slowly and cruelly over a period of weeks, depriving the victim of digestive function, perforating the bowels, causing hemorrhaging and peritonitis.
Epstein, op. cit.
The debilitating symptoms of his illness took their toll—high fever, diarrhea, painful cramps, internal hemorrhage, vomiting, profound exhaustion, delirium.