She grew
more and more bewildered, and her dizzy head refused to reason.
Mary never spoke. She held the bit of paper firmly, determined to
retain possession of it, come what might; and anxious, and
impatient, for her aunt to go. As she sat, her face bore a likeness
to Esther's dead child.
"You are so like my little girl, Mary!" said Esther, weary of the
one subject on which she could get no satisfaction, and recurring,
with full heart, to the thought of the dead.
Mary looked up. Her aunt had children, then. That was all the idea
she received. No faint imagination of the love and the woe of that
poor creature crossed her mind, or she would have taken her, all
guilty and erring, to her bosom, and tried to bind up the broken
heart. No! it was not to be. Her aunt had children, then; and she
was on the point of putting some question about them, but before it
could be spoken another thought turned it aside, and she went back
to her task of unravelling the mystery of the paper, and the
handwriting. Oh! how she wished her aunt would go!
As if, according to the believers in mesmerism, the intenseness of
her wish gave her power over another, although the wish was
unexpressed, Esther felt herself unwelcome, and that her absence was
desired.
Pages:
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496