"I should say part of it was to cultivate a cheerful temper, and try to make your religion attractive by that means," replied Belle. "What use is there in your talking to the girls about the power of religion to make them happy, when they see you crying half the time, and moping the other half? I think they may be excused for not believing it, when they have such an example before their eyes. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Alice, but I must say I think your continued low spirits are a reproach to the cause you advocate, as well as a great injury to yourself. I dare say Lucy would have said all this a great deal better than I have done, but it is true, and I think you will see it so if you give it a little consideration."
The days wore on, and Emily improved slowly, and grew able to be moved without pain, and then to sit up a little, and be amused with reading or conversation for a little while at a time. The girls were only too ready to give her their company, and Mrs. Pomeroy was obliged to make a law that no more than two should be admitted at once. Lucy and Belle were perhaps the most frequent visitors, next to Delia, who now spent some hours of every day with her.
Belle's prattle was always amusing, and she was the first person who succeeded in making Emily laugh. Lucy's sweet cheerfulness brought sunshine every where, so it is no wonder that she was a desirable visitor in the sick room. Delia's depression instead of lightening with the progress of her friend's recovery, seemed to grow deeper and deeper every day. She would read aloud to Emily for hours, but she seldom spoke unless she was directly addressed, and then she would converse only on the most indifferent topics. Yet her affection for Emily seemed undiminished, and she never parted from her without a kiss and embrace as passionate as though she never expected to see her again.
Mr. Fletcher had returned Mr. Hugo his book with an expression of disgust which seemed to surprise and rather amuse the learned Professor.
"What harm, mon ami? It is not perhaps exactly the book one would circulate among the young ladies, though I believe the sweet darlings are not all such innocent angels, either,—but it is a choice book for all that, and will not harm either you or me."
"I do not agree with you," answered Mr. Fletcher coldly. "Such moral pitch cannot be touched by any one without danger of defilement. I profess no immunity from such contagion."
"Eh bien! What signify these grand airs of virtue when we are by ourselves?" asked Mr. Hugo contemptuously. "Better to keep them for Madam's benefit."
Mr. Fletcher looked at the gentleman as though he were resisting a strong impulse to turn him out of the room, but he made no response. And Mr. Hugo, finding that he was not invited to sit down, departed, muttering between his teeth, something which did not sound like a compliment. Mr. Fletcher walked up and down his room for some time, apparently deep in thought, and then taking his hat and cane, and whistling to Grip, he went out, and took his way straight to the telegraph office, where he remained for a considerable time.
It was now the first week in April, and Emily was so far recovered as to be able to sit up part of the day, and had taken two or three little walks from the bed to her chair, and from her chair to the window, though she still could not step without assistance. Mrs. Pomeroy and the Doctor prophesied that she would be about again, before warm weather came on, and she herself began to be encouraged and hopeful, and to form plans about commencing her studies by little and little. She had been talking over all these matters with Delia one afternoon, or rather she had been talking and Delia listening, for she seemed to have given up conversation altogether herself.
"Mrs. Pomeroy says I may begin to read a little Latin with Mr. Fletcher to-morrow, and that you may come and read with me, instead of going into class. Won't it be nice to have him all to ourselves?"