Several weeks more had now passed away. Cora had gained rapidly in strength, and as Mr. and Mrs. Wallace were now daily expected to return home and the girls wishing to avoid an explanation it was thought best to remove the patient to the abode of the Westcots. Alice was also anxious to have Imelda return as she was fast losing all control of her little daughters. Tender, loving mother that she was she was totally unfit to train her little ones. Besides she was not yet really strong.
With an unwilling heart Cora had bade good bye to the sisters who had shown her so much kindness and love. Imelda’s eyes, too, had filled with tears as she kissed both gentle girls, but she carried with her the promise that she should soon see both at “Maple Lawn.” Cora’s cheeks were tinged with a faint peach-bloom color denoting the return of health, and her eyes sparkled as she and Imelda were swiftly driven along towards the outskirts of the city where the Westcot mansion was situated amid its beautiful gardens. Just as the setting sun was casting the last golden rays across their path the carriage drove up the beautiful maple-drive to where little Alice, in daintiest of white gowns, was awaiting them, her eyes sparkling with joy at the prospect of having Imelda once more with her. The little girls also, arrayed in their pretty white dresses, were watching for their “Miss Meldy.” They clapped their little hands and fairly danced with delight when the figure of their young teacher alighted. They grew somewhat quieter when a second lady, so pale and languid, stepped from the carriage and slowly followed the more quickly moving Imelda. She caught the little ones in her arms and they clung to her as if they would never again let go of their beloved friend. Alice, finding herself overlooked in this meeting, turned to Cora. Holding out both hands in welcome she made the sad-eyed girl feel that her words were no formal phrase, but that they came from a warm impulsive heart.
“I hope not to be a burden long,” said Cora. “I am beginning to feel quite strong now, and in a short time hope to be able to look about for some work to do.”
Alice laid her hand upon her lips.
“Not one word more. A burden indeed! On the contrary I feel as though I had a great deal to make good. This, (touching with her dainty finger the red mark which was just peeping from beneath the mass of ringlets that covered the young girl’s forehead) this will be a constant reminder of what might have proved a fatal accident, and as yet I have had no opportunity to right the wrong that has been done.” Cora protested but Alice had her way, as that little woman invariably did have. She herself conducted her up the wide staircase to the room which had been set apart for her and which adjoined Imelda’s.
“I thought you two might want to be near each other,” she explained. “Better now let me help you dress for dinner. I will be your dressing maid. How long do you expect still to nurse your arm? It must be tiresome to have it so tightly bandaged.”
Cora smiled.
“O yes,” she said. “It will be quite pleasant when I shall be able to move about with more freedom again. I will not then feel so much as if I were a constant task on some one’s hands, so almost perfectly useless.”
“Please don’t!” in a pleading manner the little woman spoke the words. “Can I not make you understand that you are not a task and burden? Had it not been for that almost fatal drive those long weary weeks of pain would have been spared you—”
“And in all probability I should have missed meeting the best of friends,—would have failed to find my one, my only sister. No! no! the little pain that I have endured does not so much matter, and if you can all have patience with me until my strength returns and I am once more myself I am sure I have every reason not to complain, for the good the last few weeks have brought me far outweighs everything they may have contained of unpleasantness.”