The pallor, the suffering, the desperate agony of the
eyes, were far worse than the calmness of death, but Mrs. Martin spoke
cheerfully, and even when her sister whispered that their patient had
been attacked by a haemorrhage, she manifested no concern.
"How long has this be'n a-goin' on, Ad'line? Why didn't you come home
before and get doctored up? You're all run down." Mrs. Thacher looked
frightened when this questioning began, but turned her face toward her
daughter, eager to hear the answer.
"I've been sick off and on all summer," said the young woman, as if it
were almost impossible to make the effort of speaking. "See if the
baby's covered up warm, will you, Aunt 'Liza?"
"Yes, dear," said the kind-hearted woman, the tears starting to her
eyes at the sound of the familiar affectionate fashion of speech which
Adeline had used in her childhood. "Don't you worry one mite; we're
going to take care of you and the little gal too;" and then nobody
spoke, while the only sound was the difficult breathing of the poor
creature by the fire. She seemed like one dying, there was so little
life left in her after her piteous homeward journey. The mother
watched her eagerly with a mingled feeling of despair and comfort; it
was terrible to have a child return in such sad plight, but it was a
blessing to have her safe at home, and to be able to minister to her
wants while life lasted.
They all listened eagerly for the sound of wheels, but it seemed a
long time before Martin Dyer returned with the doctor.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41