I was glad to obey; so I kissed her and Dick good-bye and mounted the stairs slowly. I felt as though my heart would break. I wanted to hide myself, to shut out the world, and be alone with my misery. Blindly, I opened the first door I came to, and entered the darkened bedchamber at the front of the house, which had been grandaunt’s.
I heard them talking on the steps below, and I crept to the front window, and peering out through the closed shutters, watched them till they drove away. It seemed to me that my very heart went with them—this, then, was the end—the end—the end—! In a very ecstasy of despair, I threw myself upon the bed and buried my burning face in the pillow! Oh, it was more than I could bear!
Chapter XIV
The Rose of Sharon
I don’t know how long I lay there, but after a while, I felt a gentle hand laid on my shoulder.
“Good gracious, Miss Cecil!” said a kind voice at the bedside. “Don’t take on so, dear. You’ll make yourself sick!”
“I—I don’t care,” I sobbed desperately. “I wish I was dead. You—you would cry, too.” And I looked up at Jane’s dear old face.
“I know I would,” assented that good creature, and, indeed, at that very moment, she was compelled hastily to use the corner of her apron to check a tear that was wandering down her cheek. “But,” she added, “I’d try t’ bear up ag’in it. Lord knows, me an’ Abner’ll miss you!”
“Thank you, Jane,” I said; “I know you will.”
“An’ anyways, miss,” she went on, her housewifely instinct asserting itself, “I wouldn’t spile this here rose o’ Sharing quilt, the old missus set so much store by.”
“This what, Jane!” I cried, sitting up suddenly, and sliding to the floor, my heart leaping to my throat.