“Cousin Emily,” said Agnes, for she too said “Cousin Emily,” though there was no relationship, in fact, between them, “Cousin Emily, I wish I knew what to read and study. I do want to know something, and I don’t know anything but my Bible, and my little book of hymns. Mammy taught me to read, or I should’nt have known anything at all,” she added sadly.
“Well, Agnes,” that is the best knowledge you could possibly have, said Emily, “though I am far from thinking other studies unimportant; but, if I can help you in any way, I will gladly lend you books, and tell you how to study.”
“Oh! will you, cousin Emily?” said Agnes, her face brightening; “how happy I shall be! aunty has taught Effie and Grace, and they have studied Geography and History, and they can cipher, and I don’t know anything at all about those things; why, even little Harry knows more than I do.”
“But you can beat us all in Bible knowledge, I know, Agnes,” said Emily, “and, in a very little time, you will catch up to the other children, for aunty has little leisure time to devote to them. But there! I hear the horn! call Kitty, to bring the baby, and we’ll all start.”
And now all warmly wrapped in cloaks and hoods, the little party left the side piazza, and walked down towards the pond. The path was well broken, as the boys travelled it so often, on their way to the pond and the snow palace, and the little party went briskly on. Emily and Agnes headed the procession, then came Effie and Grace, dragging a box-sled in which the baby was comfortably stowed, and Kitty, the nurse, brought up the rear, leading little Harry. The two boys met them at some distance from the snow palace, and told them they must go through the labyrinth before they could reach the place of entertainment.
The labyrinth was composed of paths, cut in the deep snow, winding in and out, and circling about in all directions, till, at length, the foremost of the party halted before the entrance to the snow palace. The boys had, indeed, been industrious, and the new comers stared in amazement, at the results of their labor. They found themselves, on entering the palace, in a room high enough for the tallest of the party to stand upright in, and of dimensions large enough to seat them all comfortably around the square block of snow which formed the centre table. The seats were of the same material, and were substantial enough, while the extreme cold weather lasted. On the table was placed the entertainment provided by Emily, to which the party did all possible justice, considering that they had just risen from a plentiful dinner at home. After the feast, Robert and Alfred entertained them with feats of agility on the ice, dragging one or the other of the children after them upon the sled, and when they returned home, even Emily’s usually pale cheeks were in a glow.
Towards evening Agnes began to be uneasy, and to watch at the window for her aunt’s return. “I will not see aunty, cousin Emily,” she said, “but I cannot go to bed till I hear how Lewie is to-night.”
At length her uncle and aunt returned, and Agnes heard that her little brother was very ill; but the doctor was of opinion that his disease was a brain fever, and therefore there was no danger of contagion. Agnes went to bed with a heavy heart, and cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Wharton again ordered the sleigh and drove to “the Hemlocks.” She found Mrs. Elwyn in a state bordering on distraction.
“Oh, Ellen,” she said, “how I have wanted you! Lewie has had a night of dreadful suffering, and now he is unconscious. He does not know me, Ellen! He does not hear me when I call. I think he does not see. Oh, Ellen, what would life be to me if I lose my darling. And now I want you to pray! You can pray, Ellen, and God answers your prayers. Pray for the life of my child! Mammy prays, but she will only say, ‘The will of the Lord be done!’”