Helen and Arthur; or, Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel — John Shaqi
Helen and Arthur; or, Miss Thusa's Spinning WheelHentz, Caroline Lee
General
Helen and Arthur; or, Miss Thusa's Spinning Wheel
Hentz, Caroline Lee
Fiction
"I guess you will," said Miss Thusa, "when you get a chance." Then
catching up the lamp, she shot out of the room, repeating to herself,
"Poor child! She does hate the dark so! That _was_ a powerful story, to
be sure. I shouldn't wonder if she dreamed about it. I never did see a
child that listens to anything as she does. It's a pleasure to amuse
her. Little monkey! She really acts as if 'twas all true. I know that's
my master piece; that is the reason I'm so choice of it. It isn't every
one that can tell a story as I can--that's certain. It's my _gift_--I
mustn't be proud of it. God gives some persons one talent, and some
another. We must all give an account of them at last. I hope 'twill
never be said I've hid mine in a napkin."
Such was the tenor of Miss Thusa's thoughts as she wended her way down
stairs. Had she imagined half the misery she was entailing on this
singularly susceptible and imaginative child, instead of exulting in her
_gift_, she would have mourned over its influence, in dust and ashes.
The fears which Helen expressed, and which she believed would prove as
evanescent as they were unreal, were a grateful incense to her genius,
which she delighted with unconscious cruelty in awakening. She had an
insane passion for relating these dreadful legends, whose indulgence
seemed necessary to her existence, and the happiness of the narrator was
commensurate with the credulity of the auditor. Without knowing it, she
was a vampire, feeding on the life-blood of a young and innocent heart,
and drying up the fountain of its joys.
Helen listened till the last sound of Miss Thusa's footsteps died away
on the ear, then plunging deeper into the bed, drew the blankets over
head and ears, and lay immovable as a snow-drift, with the chill dew of
terror oozing from every pore.
"I'm not a good girl," said the child to herself, "and God wont send the
angels down to take care of me to-night. I played going to meeting with
my dolls last Sunday, and Miss Thusa says that was breaking the
commandments. I'll say my prayers over again, and ask God to forgive
me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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