She dared not think of release coming through Aunt Rody’s death. That would be desiring her death. Desiring one’s death in one’s heart was—.
There was no hope but in Cousin Don.
XXIV. “I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT YOU CARED.”
“‘What is it thou knowest, sweet voice?’ I cried,
‘A hidden hope,’ the voice replied.”
—Tennyson.
“Judith, don’t stay in this little close entry when all out-doors is calling to you,” said Aunt Affy.
“But I thought she might stir and want something,” replied Aunt Rody’s nurse; “she looks up so patient and pitiful when she wants something.”
“My work is all done; I’ll sit here; you are losing your color, child. What will your Cousin Don say to me when he comes home to claim you?”