A Modern Cinderella; Or, The Little Old Shoe, and Other StoriesAlcott, Louisa May
General
A Modern Cinderella; Or, The Little Old Shoe, and Other Stories
Alcott, Louisa May
Fiction; Short stories
He pointed behind me with an aspect of such pale dismay, that I
involuntarily glanced over my shoulder and started as if I had seen a
veritable ghost; for, peering from the gloom of that inner room, I saw
a shadowy face, with dark hair all about it, and a glimpse of scarlet
at the throat. An instant showed me that it was only Robert leaning
from his bed's-foot, wrapped in a gray army-blanket, with his red shirt
just visible above it, and his long hair disordered by sleep. But what
a strange expression was on his face! The unmarred side was toward me,
fixed and motionless as when I first observed it,--less absorbed now,
but more intent. His eye glittered, his lips were apart like one who
listened with every sense, and his whole aspect reminded me of a hound
to which some wind had brought the scent of unsuspected prey.
"Do you know him, Robert? Does he mean you?"
"Lord, no, Ma'am; they all own half a dozen Bobs: but hearin' my name
woke me; that's all."
He spoke quite naturally, and lay down again, while I returned to my
charge, thinking that this paroxysm was probably his last. But by
another hour I perceived a hopeful change, for the tremor had subsided,
the cold dew was gone, his breathing was more regular, and Sleep, the
healer, had descended to save or take him gently away. Doctor Franck
looked in at midnight, bade me keep all cool and quiet, and not fail to
administer a certain draught as soon as the captain woke. Very much
relieved, I laid my head on my arms, uncomfortably folded on the little
table, and fancied I was about to perform one of the feats which
practice renders possible,--"sleeping with one eye open," as we say: a
half-and-half doze, for all senses sleep but that of hearing; the
faintest murmur, sigh, or motion will break it, and give one back one's
wits much brightened by the permission to "stand at ease." On this
night, the experiment was a failure, for previous vigils, confinement,
and much care had rendered naps a dangerous indulgence, Having roused
half a dozen times in an hour to find all quiet, I dropped my heavy
head on my arms, and, drowsily resolving to look up again in fifteen
minutes, fell fast asleep.
The striking of a deep-voiced clock woke me with a start. "That is
one," thought I, but, to my dismay, two more strokes followed; and in
remorseful haste I sprang up to see what harm my long oblivion had
done. A strong hand put me back into my seat, and held me there. It
was Robert. The instant my eye met his my heart began to beat, and all
along my nerves tingled that electric flash which foretells a danger
that we cannot see. He was very pale, his mouth grim, and both eyes
full of sombre fire,--for even the wounded one was open now, all the
more sinister for the deep scar above and below. But his touch was
steady, his voice quiet, as he said,--
"Sit still, Ma'am; I won't hurt yer, nor even scare yer, if I can help
it, but yer waked too soon."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account