‘Oh, Rosa! how can you so misjudge me?’ said Liz, as she put one arm round the weeping girl. But Rosa flung it off.
‘It is true!’ she exclaimed fiercely; ‘you said he had better never have been born, and now you have taken no trouble to keep him in this world. I suppose you thought it would be a right punishment for my sin. But I hate you—and the punishment shall come back on your own head! I hope I shall live to see the day when you shall weep as I weep, and have nothing left you but the burden of the shame.’
‘Rosa, you are not yourself! You do not know what you are saying,’ replied Lizzy calmly. ‘It is God Who has taken your baby to Himself, and neither I nor any one could have kept him here. Try and think of it like that, Rosa. Think of little Carlo, happy and well for ever in the gardens of heaven, and you will not speak so wildly and bitterly again.’
‘I shall! I shall!’ cried the girl, in the same tone, as she seized the body again and strained it in her arms; ‘and I shall never feel satisfied, Missy Liz, till you suffer as I have done.’
And with that she rushed out again into the darkness.
Liz leant against the table, and trembled. These were the things that had the power to upset her. To toil for these people early and late; to be at their beck and call whenever they chose to summons her; to lie awake at night thinking of the best means to relieve their trouble, and then to meet with ingratitude and reproaches. It did indeed seem hard! But it did not make her voice less sweet whilst addressing the others. The room in which they were assembled was long and narrow—the only sitting-room in the bungalow—and furnished with severe simplicity. The matted floor, the cane chairs, and plain unvarnished table, all told of a life of labour rather than of luxury, and except for Liz Fellows’ desk and workbox, and a few books which lay scattered about, it contained few traces of occupation. Yet it was the very absence of such things that proved the inmates of the cottage were too busy to think of much beyond their profession. A large cupboard, with a window in it, at the end of the apartment, served as a surgery, and there Liz soon turned to mix the febrifuges and tonics required by her patients. As she did so, she was greeted by a newcomer.
‘Hullo! Miss Fellows, as busy as usual, I suppose, and no time even to bid a poor mariner welcome.’
Liz turned at the sound of the cheery voice, with her welcome ready in her eyes.
‘Oh, Captain Norris! Are you back again already? When did you arrive?’
The stranger’s face fell.