Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life

by Ann S. Stephens

Mrs. Lee closed her eyes a moment and opened them with a faint smile, which seemed to ask pardon for some weakness.

"Have you seen her?"

"Yes. I was in the parlor when she came, and went with her to her room."

"And you like her better than at first, I hope?"

I hesitated.

"She is beautiful!"

"Yes, in a certain way," I answered; "but when one has got used to our Jessie's style, nothing else seems to equal it."

The mother smiled and held out her hand again.

"You love Jessie?"

I felt the tears filling my eyes. There was something so tender and sweet in this question that it made a child of me. The mother turned upon her couch, bent her lips to my hand, and dropped it gently from her hold.