“What is it, my dear,” said his mother. “Agnes, have we said anything that could hurt his feelings?”
“No, no,” sobbed Hugh. “I will tell you presently.”
9. And presently he told them, that he was so busy listening to what they said, that he forgot every thing else, when he felt as if something got between two of his toes; unconsciously he put down his hand, as if his foot was there! Nothing could be plainer than the feeling in his toes; and, then, when he put out his hand, and found nothing, it was so terrible! it startled him so! It was a comfort to find that his mother knew about this. She came, and kneeled by his sofa, and told him that many persons who had lost a limb, considered this the most painful thing they had to bear, for some time; but that, though the feeling would return occasionally through life, it would cease to be painful.
10. Hugh was very much dejected[111], and when he thought of the months and years, to the end of his life, and that he should never run and play, and never be like other people, he almost wished that he was dead.
Agnes thought that he must be miserable indeed, if he could venture to say this to his mother. She glanced at her mother’s face, but there was no displeasure there. On the contrary, she said this feeling was very natural. She had felt it herself, under smaller misfortunes than Hugh’s; but she had found, though the prospect appears all strewn[112] with troubles, that they come singly, and are not so hard to bear, after all.
11. She told Hugh, that when she was a little girl, she was very lazy, fond of her bed, and not at all fond of dressing or washing.
“Why, mother! you?” exclaimed Hugh.
“Yes; that was the sort of little girl I was. Well, I was in despair, one day, at the thought that I should have to wash and clean my teeth, and brush my hair, and put on every article of dress, every morning as long as I lived.”
“Did you tell any body?” asked Hugh.