"Mr. Hamilton is a bigger fool, and you a worse woman, than I
supposed," said Lenora. "Do you think I am mean enough to marry Walter
under such circumstances? Indeed, I'm not. But how is Carrie? I must
go and see her."
She was about leaving the room, when she turned back, saying in a
whisper, "Mother, mother, her door is wide open, as well as this one,
and she must have heard every word!"
"Oh, horror!" exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton; "go in and ascertain the fact,
if possible."
It took but one glance to convince Lenora that Carrie was in
possession of the secret. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wet with
tears; and when Lenora stooped to kiss her, she said. "I know it all,
I heard it all."
"Then I hope you feel better," said Mrs. Hamilton, coming forward.
"Listeners never hear any good of themselves."
"Particularly if it's Widow Carter who is listened to," suggested
Lenora.
Mrs. Hamilton did not reply to this, but continued speaking to Carrie.
"If you have heard anything new you can keep it to yourself. No one
has interfered with you, or intends to. Your father has a right to do
what he chooses with his own, and I shall see that he exercises that
right, too."
So saying she left the room, while Carrie, again bursting into tears,
wept until perfectly exhausted. The next morning she was attacked with
bleeding at the lungs, which in a short time reduced her so low that
the physician spoke doubtfully of her recovery, should the hemorrhage
again return. In the course of two or three days she was again
attacked; and now, when there was no longer hope of life, her thoughts
turned with earnest longings toward her absent father and sister, and
once, as the physician was preparing to leave her, she said, "Doctor,
tell me truly, can I live twenty-four hours?"
"I think you may," was the answer.
"Then I shall see them, for if you telegraph to-night they can come in
the morning train. Go yourself and have it done, will you?"
The physician promised that he would, and then left the room. In the
hall he met Mrs. Hamilton, who with the utmost anxiety depicted upon
her countenance, said, "Dear Carrie is leaving us, isn't she? I have
telegraphed for her father, who will be here in the morning. 'Twas
right to do so, was it not?"
"Quite right," answered the physician. "I promised to see to it
myself, and was just going to do so."
"Poor child," returned Mrs. Hamilton, "she feels anxious, I suppose.
But I have saved you the trouble."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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