By the Light of the Soul: A NovelFreeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
General
By the Light of the Soul: A Novel
Freeman, Mary Eleanor Wilkins
Fiction
"Well, I don't care. I am fairly sick of so much talk and thinking
about love and getting married, as if there were nothing else."
"Maybe you are different, Maria," admitted Lily, in a humiliated
fashion.
"I don't want to hear any more about it," Maria said, taking a fresh
thread from her skein of white silk.
"But do you mean what you said?"
"Yes, I do, once for all. That settles it."
Lily looked at her wistfully. She did not find Maria as sympathetic
as she wished. Then she glanced at her beautiful visage in the glass,
and remembered what the other girl had said about her beauty, and
again she smiled her childlike smile of gratified vanity and
pleasure. Then suddenly the door-bell rang.
Lily gave a great start, and turned white as she looked at Maria.
"It's George Ramsey," she whispered.
"Nonsense! How do you know?" asked Maria, laying her work on the
table beside the lamp, and rising.
"I don't know. I do know."
"Nonsense!" Still Maria stood looking irresolutely at Lily.
"I know," said Lily, and she trembled perceptibly.
"I don't see how you can tell," said Maria. She made a step towards
the door.
Lily sprang up. "I am going home," said she.
"Going home? Why?"
"He has come to see you, and I won't stay. I won't. I know you
despised me for what I did the other night, and I won't do such a
thing as to stay when he has come to see another girl. I am not quite
as bad as that." Lily started towards her cloak, which lay over a
chair.
Maria seized her by the shoulders with a nervous grip of her little
hands. "Lily Merrill," said she, "if you stir, if you dare to stir to
go home, I will not go to the door at all!"
Lily gasped and looked at her.
"I won't!" said Maria.
The bell rang a second time.
"You have got to go to the door," said Maria, with a sudden impulse.
Lily quivered under her hands.
"Why? Oh, Maria!"
"Yes, you have. You go to the door, and I will run up-stairs the back
way to my room. I don't feel well to-night, anyway. I have an awful
headache. You go to the door, and if it is--George Ramsey, you tell
him I have gone to bed with a headache, and you have come over to
stay with me because Aunt Maria has gone away. Then you can ask him
in."
A flush of incredulous joy came over Lily's face.
"You don't mean it, Maria?" she whispered, faintly.
"Yes, I do. Hurry, or he'll go away."
"Have you got a headache, honest?"
"Yes, I have. Hurry, quick! If it is anybody else do as you like
about asking him in. Hurry!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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