CHAPTER XXX.
BESSIE’S SAD STORY.
Miss Elsworth flitted here and there like a shadow, and no one ever knew where to find her. When called upon she was sure to have just gone to the country, or was not to be disturbed. It was a year since her removal to the old house at Roxbury, and her time was divided between living quietly there and attending to business which required her presence in the city. Mrs. Morris had declared that she never could stay one night alone, but she was finally persuaded, when told that Bessie would be kept in close confinement, and if she chose she could sleep at the house of Mrs. Graves. “It was quite necessary,” Miss Elsworth told Mrs. Morris, “she should be called to the city occasionally, and she could not tell just how long she would remain, but never,” she said, “longer than was really necessary.”
“Well,” Mrs. Morris said, “I ain’t no coward, but I don’t relish the idea of stayin’ alone in such a ghostly hollow as this ere.”
Miss Elsworth had returned to Roxbury, and there was general rejoicing at the farm house. The entire family of Mr. Graves had grown to love and respect her, 228 and when she went away it was as though a member of the family had left them. She was so bright, so brave, and, above all, so kind to Bessie. Mrs. Morris could not find words to express her delight, and Miss Elsworth was greatly relieved when she ceased speaking of the wonderful loneliness she had experienced while Miss Elsworth was away.
Bessie had heard of her return, and she tried every conceivable plan to gain an interview with her, and not until Miss Elsworth interceded did she accomplish her purpose.
“I’m not afraid of Miss Robin,” she said, throwing her arms around Blanche’s neck. “She will not hurt me, and I don’t believe she is crazy, if they do say she is; and I want her to come to my room and tell me about that place. Won’t you come, Miss Robin?”
“Yes,” Miss Elsworth said, as she followed her up the broad, easy stairway, covered with its soft, bright carpet. Opening a door near the top of the stairs, Bessie motioned Blanche to enter. It was a pleasant room, well furnished, but the most disorderly place that Blanche had ever seen. Bessie grasped her arm, and hurrying her to a seat near the bed she sat down close beside her.
“Now, Miss Robin,” she said, as she leaned over in Blanche’s lap, and clasped her little white hands together, “now you need not look around at things, because you know just how it is when one is packing up; you know they always get things in a mess. You see, I’m going back to boarding school, and I can’t keep things in order. Don’t you believe it?” she asked, with an angry look.