Haven.

It is not to be inferred that I entertained any affection for my
friendly keeper. I continued to regard him as an enemy; and my life at
his home became a monotonous round of displeasure. I took my three
meals a day. I would sit listlessly for hours at a time in the house.
Daily I went out--accompanied, of course--for short walks about the
town. These were not enjoyable. I believed everybody was familiar with
my black record and expected me to be put to death. Indeed, I wondered
why passers-by did not revile or even stone me. Once I was sure I heard
a little girl call me "Traitor!" That, I believe, was my last "false
voice," but it made such an impression that I can even now recall
vividly the appearance of that dreadful child. It was not surprising
that a piece of rope, old and frayed, which someone had carelessly
thrown on a hedge by a cemetery that I sometimes passed, had for me
great significance.

During these three months I again refused to read books, though within
my reach, but I sometimes read newspapers. Still I would not speak,
except under some unusual stress of emotion. The only time I took the
initiative in this regard while living in the home of my attendant was
on a bitterly cold and snowy day when I had the temerity to tell him
that the wind had blown the blanket from a horse that had been standing
for a long time in front of the house. The owner had come inside to
transact some business with my attendant's relatives. In appearance he
reminded me of the uncle to whom this book is dedicated. I imagined the
mysterious caller was impersonating him and, by one of my curious
mental processes, I deduced that it was incumbent on me to do for the
dumb beast outside what I knew my uncle would have done had he been
aware of its plight. My reputation for decency of feeling I believed to
be gone forever; but I could not bear, in this situation, to be
unworthy of my uncle, who, among those who knew him, was famous for his
kindliness and humanity.

My attendant and his relatives were very kind and very patient, for I
was still intractable. But their efforts to make me comfortable, so far
as they had any effect, made keener my desire to kill myself. I shrank
from death; but I preferred to die by my own hand and take the blame
for it, rather than to be executed and bring lasting disgrace on my
family, friends, and, I may add with truth, on Yale. For I reasoned
that parents throughout the country would withh