“Don’t look so. Laugh, can’t you? If it is something terrible, it isn’t happening to you.”
“The things that happen to me are the easiest to bear.”
Sue crossed over to the planks and went on pondering this, then gave it up to wonder how she would wear her hair on her wedding morning; Tessa would make it look pretty any way, for she was born a hair-dresser.
And Tessa went in and up-stairs, thinking of a remark of Miss Jewett’s: “I should not understand my life at all, it would be all in a tangle, if it were not for my prayers.”
XVII.—THE NIGHT BEFORE.
Two of the pretty crimson and brown chairs were drawn to the back parlor grate; Sue had kindled a fire in the back parlor because she felt “shivery,” beside, it had rained all day; the wedding morning promised to be chilly and rainy.
Early after tea Dr. Greyson had been called away; Dr. Lake had not returned from a long drive, the latest Irish girl was singing lustily in the kitchen; Sue and Tessa were alone together before the fire. The white shades were down, the doors between the rooms closed, they were altogether cozy and comfortable. Almost as comfortable, Tessa was thinking, as if there were no dreaded to-morrow; but then she was the only person in the world who could see any thing to be dreaded in the to-morrow. Tessa’s fingers were moving in and out among the white wool that she was crocheting into a long comforter for her father; Sue sat idly restless looking into Tessa’s face or into the fire.
Now and then Tessa spoke, now and then Sue ejaculated or laughed or sighed.
“Life is too queer for any thing,” she said reflectively. “Don’t you know the minister said that Sunday that we helped to make our own lives? I have often thought of that.”
Tessa’s wool was tangled, she unknotted it without replying.