She left the room, and Fanny turned to one of the ladies who had just entered.
"Where is Alice," said she. "Did not Ellinora extend an invitation to her?"
"Yes; but she is half dead with the blues, to-day. The Brown girls came back last night. They called on Alice this morning, and left letters and presents from home for her. She had a letter from her little brother, ten years old. He must be a fine fellow, judging from that letter, it was so sensible, and so witty too! One moment I laughed at some of his lively expressions, and the next cried at his expressions of love for Alice, and regret for her loss. He told her how he cried himself to sleep the night after she left home; and his flowers seemed to have faded, and the stars to have lost their brightness, when he no longer had her by his side to talk to him about them. I find by his letter that Alice is working to keep him at school. That part of it which contained his thanks for her goodness was blistered with the little fellow's tears. Alice cried like a child when she read it, and I did not wonder at it. But she ought to be happy now. Her mother sent her a fine pair of worsted hose of her own spinning and knitting, and a nice cake of her own making. She wrote, that, trifling as these presents were, she knew they would be acceptable to her daughter, because made by her. When Alice read this, she cried again. Her sister sent her a pretty little fancy basket, and her brother a bunch of flowers from her mother's garden. They were enclosed in a tight tin box, and were as fresh as when first gathered. Alice sent out for a new vase. She has filled it with her flowers, and will keep them watered with her tears, judging from present appearances. Alice is a good-hearted girl, and I love her, but she is always talking or thinking of something to make her unhappy. A letter from a friend, containing nothing but good news, and assurances of friendship, that ought to make her happy, generally throws her into a crying fit, which ends in a moping fit of melancholy. This destroys her own happiness, and that of all around her.'"
"You ought to talk to her, she is spoiling herself," said Mary Mason, whose mouth was literally crammed with the last apple of a second plateful.
"I have often urged her to be more cheerful. But she answers me with a helpless, hopeless, 'I can't Jane! you know I can't. I shall never be happy while I live; and I often think that the sooner I go where "the weary are at rest," the better.' I don't know how many times she has given me an answer like this. Then she will sob as if her heart were bursting. She sometimes wears me quite out; and I feel as I did when Ellinora called me, as if released from a prison."
"Would it improve her spirits to walk with me?" asked Ann.
"Perhaps it would, if you can persuade her to go. Do try, dear Ann," answered Jane. "I called at Isabel Greenwood's room as I came along, and asked her to go in and see if she could rouse her up."
Ann heard Isabel's voice in gentle but earnest expostulation, as she reached Alice's room. Isabel paused when Ann entered, kissed her cheek, and resigned her rocking-chair to her. Alice was sobbing too violently to speak. She took her face from her handkerchief, bowed to Ann, and again buried it. Ann invited them to walk with her. Isabel cheerfully acceded to her proposal, and urged Alice to accompany them.
"Don't urge me, Isabel," said Alice; "I am only fit for the solitude of my chamber. I could not add at all to your pleasure. My thoughts would be at my home, and I could not enjoy a walk in the least degree. But Isabel, I do not want you to leave me so. I know that you think me very foolish to indulge in these useless regrets, as you call them. You will understand me better if you just consider the situation of my mother's family. My mother a widow, my oldest brother at the West, my oldest sister settled in New York, my youngest brother and sister only with mother, and I a Lowell factory girl! And such I must be—for if I leave the mill, my brother cannot attend school all of the time; and his heart would almost break to take him from school. And how can I be happy in such a situation; I do not ask for riches; but I would be able to gather my friends all around me. Then I could be happy. Perhaps I am as happy now as you would be in my situation, Isabel."
Isabel's eyes filled, but she answered in her own sweet, calm manner: