“No,” sighed the girl. “I suppose not, friend nurse. There is but one thing to do at present, and that is to care for my cousin. And that reminds me that ’tis time to go to him now.”
Throwing aside all her melancholy, for Peggy had been taught that gloom had no place near the sick, she went into the kitchen, took from its place on the dresser a salver which she covered with a napkin, placed thereon a bowl of steaming broth, for Peggy permitted no one to prepare his food but herself, and then regarded it thoughtfully.
“There should be some brightness,” she mused. “’Tis passing hard to lie all day in bed with no hint of the spring time. I have it.”
She ran out to the empurpled grass where the violets grew thickest, and gathered a small nosegay of the largest blossoms. These she brought in and laid daintily on the salver beside the bowl of broth.
“As thee cannot go to the blossoms I have brought the blossoms to thee,” said she brightly when she reached her cousin’s bedside. “See, my cousin, ’tis a bit of the May, as thee calls it, although May hath not yet come in truth; but ’tis very near. Friends say Fifth month, though ’tis not so pretty a name as thine. Thou canst hold them if thou wishest. ’Tis so small a bunch that it will not tire thy poor, weak fingers.”
“I thank you,” said the lad coldly. “I fear me that you put yourself to too much trouble for me.” He took the violets listlessly, never vouchsafing them so much as a glance.
“And how does thee do this morning, my cousin?” The girl shook up the pillows, then slipped them under his head so that he half sat, half reclined in the bed, cheerfully ignoring the chilly reception that the poor violets received. “I think thee looks brighter.”
“I rested well, Mistress Peggy,” he answered briefly, and then he dropped the blossoms, and taking the spoon from her, added: “I will not trouble you to feed me this morning. I am quite strong enough to feed myself.”
“Very well,” assented Peggy with becoming meekness, quietly arranging the salver in front of him.
The lad began strongly enough, but soon his hand began to tremble. The perspiration stood on his forehead in great drops as he continued to make the effort, and presently the spoon fell with a clatter from his nerveless fingers. He sank back, panting and exhausted, on his pillows.