Chapter 4- Callum #2
For the next few days, Callum did little except shut himself inside his room and pore over the journal.
Three hours in that first evening, Callum had developed a pounding headache.
The following morning, as early as the shops would possibly be open, he sent a footman out on an errand, and the man returned with a large magnifying glass—meant, presumably, for the elderly—that one could set upon the page.
It was a curious thing, to have such an unabridged view into someone else’s mind—especially that of a lady. Almost as much interest to Callum as the words were the lengths to which the writer had gone to prevent anyone from identifying her from the pages.
From several off-hand remarks, he could tell she was young. And from the dates on the pages, he could surmise that she was still young, as the dates covered the span of time from three years prior to—he skipped to the end with a thrill of anticipation—only this past week.
She had several sisters, but curiously, each was denoted by a small symbol instead of an initial. So far there were six of them mentioned—an ampersand, an exclamation point, an x-mark, a forward slash, a star, and a circle.
Callum had started the journal with the same casual interest as one who’d purchased a novel they’d heard good word about. Soon, however, his interest went far deeper than that. Soon, he began numbering the pages and taking notes.
He wondered when the mad idea had first started in his mind.
Perhaps it began as quickly as page three, when the authoress casually wrote:
Of course Mother and Father would be dismayed to know what our brother has done.
I go back and forth in wondering whether it would not have been better for them to live longer, in the hopes that perhaps they could have taught him more and guided him longer, in order to prevent any of it from happening.
Then I chastise myself—isn’t it far better to bear the brunt of hardships if you know it has prevented others from bearing the weight, as well?
I am strong and sturdy—certainly it’s better that Mother and Father never saw such a day as this...
Or maybe it was when she wrote thus on page seventeen:
It is the responsibility of the older siblings to shield the younger as much as possible.
Though I am in the middle of the family, it still falls to me to shelter my younger sisters, to do all I can to provide for them in such dark times, to kindle joy wherever possible, to encourage and exhort them to higher ways of thinking, and to add to their education so that they aren’t deprived of any of the good knowledge they should have to live upright lives.
He’d laughed out loud when she’d added:
This all would be far easier if x and / weren’t such absolute dunderheads before they’ve had breakfast.
The idea was firmly planted by page thirty-six, when he read:
Of course my hands are chapped, of course my back hurts, and I’m deeply weary.
But that is no excuse for how I snapped at it was nearly noon. Perhaps he might catch her bringing the soup today and not have to wait another week to solve this mystery.
Callum shut the book, thrust it into his inner coat pocket, and took the stairs two at a time, running for the front door.