"I"ve been with her all day; haven"t left her one minute alone--not even with him. When he came, I planted myself by the bed, and there I stood like a monument. She kept asking for you."
"For me?" I faltered, smitten with compunction. "I did not think of that."
"You"ve given up thinking of anything, I"m afraid," said Lottie, shivering. "It wasn"t just the thing to run off and leave me to bear the brunt of all their looks and questions! Not that I answered them--oh, no! but I wanted to get off and have a good cry as well as you."
"I am very sorry, Lottie."
"But that was nothing till she asked for you over and over again; then I"d "a" given anything to have jumped up and after you. Besides, Miss Jessie was hunting up and down, wondering where you were, and Mr. Lee looked like a thunder-cloud."
"Mr. Lee?"
"Yes, Mr. Lee! But there you stand with your teeth going chatter--chatter--chatter--like a squirrel cracking hickory-nuts. Do come into the house!"
I followed her, meekly enough; she scolding and reviling, and petting me all the way as if I had been a lap-dog out of favor.
When we reached the house, it was late in the afternoon. I had eaten nothing that day, and still loathing the idea of food, felt its want in all my frame.
"Go up to your chamber, quick," said Lottie, hurrying me through the hall. "Babylon is in the drawing-room, and I wouldn"t have her see you looking so like a drowned hen for nothing. Wouldn"t it tickle her!"
This speech aroused me a little, and I struggled up the stairs and entered my room. Lottie followed me to the door, said something very peremptory about changing my clothes, and went away.
What possessed me, I do not know; I remember flinging off my wet shawl and shuddering, with a sense of extreme coldness, as it fell with a splash on the carpet; I remember, also, feeling how necessary it was that I should exchange my clothes for dry ones. But as I went toward the toilet, a letter lying upon it drew my attention from everything else. I had not the courage to touch it--a reptile coiled there could not have disturbed me more. So I stood looking at it in the dreary wetness of my garments, knowing what it meant, and dreading it. I took the letter up at last. It was thick and heavy; my heart sunk beneath its weight, my limbs trembled so violently, that I was obliged to sit down on the bed.
I broke the envelope. A thick paper covered with figures fell into my lap, a leaf of note-paper on which there was writing, fluttered after it.
I knew what it was. For the first time in my life Mr. Lee had sent me an account of his guardianship. Those figures, dancing in such fantastic rows before my eyes, contained an exact statement of my property, its growth, and aggregate amount. I knew this without the power to read or make an estimate. I knew also what it all meant. I had long been of age; my guardian, in that tedious combination of figures, was giving up his trust. That woman had prevailed; I was no longer welcome under Mr. Lee"s roof. The paper fell from my hands. I took up the note, but only read the first few lines. They were very kind, but confirmed my fears. I could not read the note through--the whole room swam around me--a faint sickness crept to my vitals--nothing but darkness; into this I sank helplessly, and lay in its sombre depths for weeks.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
COMING OUT OF A DANGEROUS ILLNESS.
I asked if it was late--if I had overslept myself. It was Lottie to whom I spoke. She bent her face to mine; she looked into my eyes with a fervor of gladness in hers that made my nerves shrink. She caught up both my hands and kissed them; then burst into tears, and ran into the hall, crying out,--
"Miss Jessie, oh, Miss Jessie!"
My darling came, looking pale and hara.s.sed; but for the moment her face lighted up, and she approached me eager and breathless.
"You are better, dear Aunt Matty? Say that you know me."
"Know you, my darling?"
I tried to say this, and felt very helpless when my voice died away in a strange whisper; but a glow was on my face, and I know that my lips smiled, though they could not speak.
"You know me!" she cried, joyously.--"Oh! Lottie, it is true, she knows us--she will get well!"
Had I been ill? Was that the reason I felt so like a little child?
Jessie read this question in my eyes and answered it, kissing my forehead with her cool lips.
"Oh, yes, Aunt Matty, _so_ ill! Out of your head, poor soul!"
Out of my head! The thought troubled me. Why? Had I anything to conceal?
To question one"s soul requires strength, for it is a stern task. I was very weak, and so put the subject aside. The very sight of Jessie"s face had wearied me.
She sat down on the bed, and then I saw how sad and thoughtful she had become. Her very lips were pale, and her eyes were shaded by their inky lashes, which threw her whole face into mourning. Had she suffered so much because I was ill, or were other sorrows distressing her?
She held my hand in hers, clasping it tenderly. I strove to return the caress; but my poor fingers only fluttered in hers like the wings of a birdling when it first sees food. She knew that I wanted to return her love, and smiled upon me; but oh! how sad her smile was! Then I fell off into a quiet sleep.
The next day I could ask questions. How long was it? Four weeks--four weeks, in which they had been so anxious! The doctors had given me up, but she and Lottie had always hoped. It seemed as if I could not be taken from her just when she wanted me so much.
"And her mother, was all well?"
Mrs. Lee was better, stronger, and more cheerful than she had been for weeks before I was taken ill. Indeed, she had once crept to my chamber, and cried over me like a child.
"Mrs. Lee better, and more cheerful? Then why was Jessie so sad?"
The dear girl turned away her face and made no answer. Her silence cut me to the heart.
Then I remembered the letter; that sheet of paper, with its red lines, and crowded with figures, came before me with a pang, as if some one had struck me on the heart. The grief that convulsed my face frightened Jessie; she understood it and strove to rea.s.sure me.
"It is all well," she said; "never think of it again."
She might as well have asked a wounded man to forget the bullet rankling in his flesh. How much that package had hurt me, no human being could ever tell!
"Father has been very anxious about you," she said; "I never saw him suffer so much."
"What have you done with it?" I inquired.
She knew what I meant, and answered, gently,--
"I gave them back to my father--all except the letter, which I burned."
"Thank you, dear child."
There was silence awhile. I wanted to ask a question, but it made me faint. I think she would have answered that without waiting for words, only that the subject was a pain to her, as it was agony to me.
"Is _she_ here yet?"
I knew that a whiteness was creeping over my lips as I uttered the words, and I felt a thrill of disgust pa.s.s over Jessie.
"She is here."
The bitter distress in her voice told me all that was in her heart. But it was a subject we could not speak upon.