“Out of doors?”
“Oh, she’ll tell you all about it to-morrow,” said ’Lisbeth, pursing up her mouth in the same funny way as before.
Florence was too weak to pursue the subject further, and presently was glad enough to lay her tired head upon the pillow once more.
The next morning the first object that caught her eye was a bunch of slender willow-wands, with their soft, clinging “pussies,” such as she had not seen since she was a child running about under the elms in the old, quiet town by the sea. The fresh, sweet sunlight peeped through the window and rested on their gray fur, creeping down from one to another and dancing in and out in the merriest manner possible. As Florence lay there beneath the old patchwork quilt, watching this pretty play of sunshine and kittens, and listening to the soft bustle of the morning’s work in the next room, a sense of great comfort and rest stole over her, and in her weakness her eyes filled with happy tears. Whatever was troublesome in the past she forgot: the future seemed as bright and yet as intangible as the sunbeams. She only realized the watchful care and devotion that were hovering about her day and night, and, in the clear, wholesome atmosphere, her mother’s religion seemed nearer to her than ever before. Her favorite verse, “Return unto thy rest, O my soul,” was written in sunny characters upon the faded wall before her.
Then she began to wonder how it would seem to meet the other members of the family. The shrill voice of the old man she had often heard, but she had listened in vain for some snatch of song or girlish footfall which might belong to the gentle “Elsie” whose unseen ministrations were always attending to her comfort. As for the sturdy young fellow who had borne her so lightly through the snow, she had heard him once or twice only, speaking to ’Lisbeth in low tones, or calling cheerily somewhere outside to a passing neighbor.
“He must at least live near here,” she thought, “but has probably forgotten all about me. Breakdowns are common enough in the country, and the ‘women-folks’ always have to be carried through the drifts.”
Still, she could not help wondering a little who he was, and where he learned that slow, quiet speech, with its correctly-placed adverbs and adjectives, She at last concluded that he must be a neighbor in rather better circumstances than her hostess,—perhaps one of the proud “Hill-folks” whom Mrs. Walton was to visit. How they must have laughed over the adventure as they sat about their loaded tables on Christmas day! Could he not have just called at the door and inquired for her during all these long weeks of suffering? Then the color came faintly to her cheeks. She was a dependant, a servant: how could she expect such attentions? The old rebellious uprising of her whole nature was beginning to assert itself once more, when ’Lisbeth’s soft knock was heard at the door, and ’Lisbeth herself immediately appeared, while the sunbeams, which had somehow hidden behind a cloud just before, danced in through the window again to meet her.
