“No, no. Aunt Hulda—so kind—she does everything. She will nurse me—thank you. Let me—see you often—that’s all.”
The eyes wandered to Aunt Hulda with a beseeching look that Mrs. Thompson divined at once.
“Bless you child! I’ll not interfere with her. She shall be mistress in the house; and a good one she’ll make.”
This was said with a smile for Aunt Hulda that warmed the heart of the spinster towards the visitor. There was a pleased look in the eyes of the invalid, as those of Mrs. Thompson came back to her full of love and sympathy.
“Thank you. Come closer. Becky—my Becky—don’t let her believe she did this. I’ve brought it on myself—the doctor said so. Too much watching—you know—it’s been wearing upon me. The ship—that never comes—never, never comes. But it will—I know it will.”
“I wouldn’t speak of that, Delia, now. The ship will come in God’s good time,” said Mrs. Thompson. “Remember the dear ones here, and trust the absent one to his care.”
“Yes, yes; but I didn’t,” said the sick one, sighing. “I forgot my treasures here, hoping to clasp that other every day; and now I’m punished. Wasted life! Wasted life! Poor little girl! with her mother’s heart shut against her, drifting away—running to waste; and so smart and apt to learn! God pity me! God pity me!”
“Leave all to me, Delia. Let no thought of Becky disturb you.”
“I cannot help it. It seems to me as though I had wilfully neglected her.”
“Not as I have, Delia. With all your household cares, my little namesake claimed some portion of my attention; and we have not met for years. Delia, you know the reason. I blame myself for this long neglect.”