“God bless my darling, and keep her as innocent as now,” Mrs. Johnson murmured, bowing her head upon her daughter’s, and kissing the rosy cheek. “I am glad there is no engagement. Will you promise there shall not be for one year at least?”
It was a hard thing to ask, for more than she guessed, till then, did Alice’s heart incline toward Dr. Richards. Slily, adroitly, he had insinuated himself into her affections, boasting that he could sway her at will, only let him attend the Lenten services, week days and all, drop something in the plate every Sabbath, speak to all the ragamuffins he met, take old Mrs. Snyder out for an airing every week, and he was all right with Alice Johnson. And this was the man from whom Mrs. Johnson would save her daughter, asking again for the promise.
“Yes, I will, I do,” Alice said at last.
A second “God bless my darling,” came from the mother’s lips, and drawing her treasure nearer to her, she continued, “You have made me very happy, and by and by you’ll be so glad. You may leave me now, for I am tired and faint.”
It was long ere Alice forgot the expression of her mother’s face or the sound of her voice, as she bade her good night on that last evening they ever spent together alone. The indisposition of which Mrs. Johnson had been complaining for several days, proved to be no light matter, and when next morning Dr. Rogers was summoned to her bedside, he decided it to be a fever which was then prevailing to some extent in the neighboring towns.
That afternoon it was told at Terrace Hill that Mrs. Johnson was very sick, and half an hour later the Richards carriage, containing the doctor and his sister Anna, wound down the hill, and passing through the park, turned in the direction of the cottage, where they found Mrs. Johnson worse than they had anticipated. The sight of distress roused Anna at once, and forgetting her own feebleness she kindly offered to stay until night if she could be of any service. Mrs. Johnson was fond of Anna, and she expressed her pleasure so eagerly that Anna decided to remain, and went with Alice to remove her wrappings.
“Oh, I forgot!” she exclaimed, as a sudden thought seemed to strike her. “I don’t know as I can stay after all, though I might write it here, I suppose, as well as at home; and as John is going to New York to-night he will take it along.”
“What is it?” Alice asked; and Anna replied,
“You’ll think me very foolish, no doubt; they all do, especially John, and have tried to laugh me out of it, but I have thought about it, and dreamed about it, until it is impressed upon me that I must do it, and I had decided to attend to it this very day, when we heard of your mother’s illness, and John persuaded me to come here with him, as he wished to say good-bye to you.”
“I’ll get you writing materials if you like,” Alice said, “or you can go at once to the library. Your brother will wait, I am sure.”