Stepping Heavenward [41]
me burst out crying.
"Yes, cry, cry, with all your heart," said Mrs. Embury, laying Emma gently down, and coming to get me into her arms. "It will do you good, poor child!"
She cried with me, till at last I could lie down and try to sleep.
Well, the days and the weeks were very long after that.
Dear mother had a hard time, what with her anxiety about Emma, and my crossness and unreasonableness.
Dr. Elliott came and went, came and went. At last he said all danger was over, and that our patient little darling would get well. But his visits did not diminish; he came twice and three times every day. Sometimes I hoped he would tell us about his new flame, and sometimes I felt that I could not hear her mentioned. One day mother was so unwell that I had to help him dress Emma's burns, and I could not help saying:
"Even a mother's gentlest touch, full of love as it is, is almost rough compared with that of one trained to such careful handling as you are."
He looked gratified, but said:
"I am glad you begin to find that even stones feel, sometimes."
Another time something was said about the fickleness of women. Mrs. Embury began it. I fired up, of course.
He seemed astonished at my attack.
"I said nothing," he declared.
"No, but you looked a good many things. Now the fact is, women are not fickle. When they lose what they value most, they find it impossible to re place it. But men console themselves with the first good thing that comes along."
I dare say I spoke bitterly, for I was thinking how soon Ch----, I mean somebody, replaced me in his shallow heart, and how, with equal speed, Dr. Elliott had helped himself to a new love.
"I do not like these sweeping assertions," said Dr. Elliott, looking a good deal annoyed.
"I have to say what I think," I persisted.
"It is well to think rightly, then," he said, gravely.
"By the bye, have you heard from Helen?" Mrs. Embury most irreverently asked.
"Yes, I, heard yesterday."
"I suppose you will be writing her, then? Will you enclose a little note from me? Or rather let me have the least corner of your sheet?"
I was shocked at her want of delicacy. Of course this Helen must be the new love, and how could a woman with two grains of sense imagine he would want to spare her a part of his sheet!
I felt tired and irritated. As soon as Dr. Elliott had gone, I began to give her a good setting down.
"I could hardly believe my ears," I said, "when I heard you ask leave to write on Dr. Elliott's sheet."
"No wonder," she said, laughing. "I suppose you never knew what it was to have to count every shilling, and to deny yourself the pleasure of writing to a friend because of what it would cost. I'm sure I never did till I was married."
"But to ask him to let you help write his love-letters," I objected.
"Ah! is that the way the wind blows?" she cried, nodding her pretty little head. "Well, then, let me relieve your mind, my dear, by informing you that this 'love-letter' is to his sister, my dearest friend, and the sweetest little thing you ever saw."
"Oh!" I said, and immediately felt quite rested, and quite like myself.
Like myself! And who is she, pray!
Two souls dwell in my poor little body, and which of them is me, and which of them isn't, it would be hard to tell. This is the way they behave:
SCENE FIRST.
Katy, to the other creature, whom I will call Kate.-Your mother looks tired, and you have been very cross. Run and put your arms around her, and tell her how you love her.
Kate. -Oh, I can't; it would look queer. I don't like palaver. Besides, who would not be cross who felt as I do?
SCENE SECOND.
Katy.-Little Emma has nothing to do, and ought to be amused. Tell her a story, do.
Kate.-I am tired, and need to be amused myself.
Katy.-But the dear little thing is so patient and has suffered so much.
Kate.-Well, I have suffered, too. If she had not climbed up on the fender she would not have got burned.
SCENE THIRD.
Kate.-You are very irritable to-day. You had better go upstairs to your room
"Yes, cry, cry, with all your heart," said Mrs. Embury, laying Emma gently down, and coming to get me into her arms. "It will do you good, poor child!"
She cried with me, till at last I could lie down and try to sleep.
Well, the days and the weeks were very long after that.
Dear mother had a hard time, what with her anxiety about Emma, and my crossness and unreasonableness.
Dr. Elliott came and went, came and went. At last he said all danger was over, and that our patient little darling would get well. But his visits did not diminish; he came twice and three times every day. Sometimes I hoped he would tell us about his new flame, and sometimes I felt that I could not hear her mentioned. One day mother was so unwell that I had to help him dress Emma's burns, and I could not help saying:
"Even a mother's gentlest touch, full of love as it is, is almost rough compared with that of one trained to such careful handling as you are."
He looked gratified, but said:
"I am glad you begin to find that even stones feel, sometimes."
Another time something was said about the fickleness of women. Mrs. Embury began it. I fired up, of course.
He seemed astonished at my attack.
"I said nothing," he declared.
"No, but you looked a good many things. Now the fact is, women are not fickle. When they lose what they value most, they find it impossible to re place it. But men console themselves with the first good thing that comes along."
I dare say I spoke bitterly, for I was thinking how soon Ch----, I mean somebody, replaced me in his shallow heart, and how, with equal speed, Dr. Elliott had helped himself to a new love.
"I do not like these sweeping assertions," said Dr. Elliott, looking a good deal annoyed.
"I have to say what I think," I persisted.
"It is well to think rightly, then," he said, gravely.
"By the bye, have you heard from Helen?" Mrs. Embury most irreverently asked.
"Yes, I, heard yesterday."
"I suppose you will be writing her, then? Will you enclose a little note from me? Or rather let me have the least corner of your sheet?"
I was shocked at her want of delicacy. Of course this Helen must be the new love, and how could a woman with two grains of sense imagine he would want to spare her a part of his sheet!
I felt tired and irritated. As soon as Dr. Elliott had gone, I began to give her a good setting down.
"I could hardly believe my ears," I said, "when I heard you ask leave to write on Dr. Elliott's sheet."
"No wonder," she said, laughing. "I suppose you never knew what it was to have to count every shilling, and to deny yourself the pleasure of writing to a friend because of what it would cost. I'm sure I never did till I was married."
"But to ask him to let you help write his love-letters," I objected.
"Ah! is that the way the wind blows?" she cried, nodding her pretty little head. "Well, then, let me relieve your mind, my dear, by informing you that this 'love-letter' is to his sister, my dearest friend, and the sweetest little thing you ever saw."
"Oh!" I said, and immediately felt quite rested, and quite like myself.
Like myself! And who is she, pray!
Two souls dwell in my poor little body, and which of them is me, and which of them isn't, it would be hard to tell. This is the way they behave:
SCENE FIRST.
Katy, to the other creature, whom I will call Kate.-Your mother looks tired, and you have been very cross. Run and put your arms around her, and tell her how you love her.
Kate. -Oh, I can't; it would look queer. I don't like palaver. Besides, who would not be cross who felt as I do?
SCENE SECOND.
Katy.-Little Emma has nothing to do, and ought to be amused. Tell her a story, do.
Kate.-I am tired, and need to be amused myself.
Katy.-But the dear little thing is so patient and has suffered so much.
Kate.-Well, I have suffered, too. If she had not climbed up on the fender she would not have got burned.
SCENE THIRD.
Kate.-You are very irritable to-day. You had better go upstairs to your room