Elsewhere we have said that for a few days Willie had not seemed well;
but so absorbed were all in Carrie's more alarming symptoms that no
one had heeded him, although his cheeks were flushed with fever, and
his head was throbbing with pain. He was in the habit of sleeping in
his parents' room, and that night his loud breathings and uneasy
turnings disturbed and annoyed his mother, who at last called out in
harsh tones, "Willie, Willie, for mercy's sake stop that horrid noise!
I shall never get asleep this way. I know there's no need of breathing
like that!"
"It chokes me so," sobbed little Willie, "but I'll try."
Then pressing his hands tightly over his mouth, he tried the
experiment of holding his breath as long as possible. Hearing no sound
from his mother, he thought her asleep, but not venturing to breathe
naturally until assured of the fact, he whispered, "Ma, ma, are you
asleep?"
"Asleep! no--and never shall be, as I see. What do you want?"
"Oh, I want to breathe," said Willie.
"Well, breathe then; who hinders you?" was the reply; and ere the
offensive sound again greeted her ear, Mrs. Hamilton was too far gone
in slumber to be disturbed.
For two hours Willie lay awake, tossing from side to side, scorched
with fever and longing for water to quench his burning thirst. By this
time Mrs. Hamilton was again awake; but to his earnest entreaties for
water--"Just one little drop of water, ma"--she answered:
"William Hamilton, if you don't be still I'll move your crib into the
room where Carrie is, and leave you there alone!"
Unlike many children, Willie had no fears of the cold white figure
which lay so still and motionless upon the parlor sofa. To him it was
Carrie, his sister; and many times that day had he stolen in alone,
and laying back the thin muslin which shaded her face, he had looked
long upon her--had laid his hand on her icy cheek, wondering if she
knew how cold she was, and if the way which she had gone was so long
and dark that he could never find it. To him there was naught to fear
in that room of death, and to his mother's threat he answered eagerly,
"Oh, ma, give me some water, just a little bit of water, and you may
carry me in there, I ain't afraid and my breathing won't wake Carrie
up;" but before he had finished speaking his mother was again dozing.
"Won't anybody bring me some water--Maggie, Carrie--Leno--nobody?"
murmured poor Willie, as he Wet his pillow with tears.
At last he could bear it no longer. He knew where the water-bucket
stood, and stepping from his bed, he groped his way down the long
stairs to the basement. The spring moon was low in the western
horizon, and shining through the curtained window, dimly lighted up
the room. The pail was soon reached, and then in his eagerness to
drink, he put his lips to the side. Lower, lower, lower it came, until
he discovered, alas I that the pail was empty.
"What shall I do? what shall I do?" said he, as he crouched upon the
cold hearthstone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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