Innocent : $b a tale of modern lifeOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
Innocent : $b a tale of modern life
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Fiction
over Amanda in her sleep; this lasted for an hour or two, during which
the patient and the young attendant who was so little used to watch,
slept peacefully with but the veil of this curtain between them. Then
Amanda began to stir. Her sleep was always broken and uncertain; the
poor aunty to whom she was so cruel had accustomed her to constant and
unfailing attendance--and when she woke and called and saw no one,
sudden wrath flamed up in Amanda’s bosom. Gradually the circumstances
came back upon her mind, and plucking back the curtain she saw poor
Innocent quietly sleeping, her hair falling in the old childish way
about her shoulders, and her dark eyelashes resting on her cheek, which
looked so pale under them. Amanda did not care for the weary grace and
_abandon_ of the girl’s attitude, nor was she at all touched by the
thought that Innocent had been occupied in her own service to her last
moment of consciousness. Mrs. Frederick, on the contrary, was furious to
find herself “left alone” with no obsequious nurse ready to attend to
her wants. She shrieked at Innocent to rouse her, and stretching out of
bed shook the girl, who started violently, and sprang up trembling and
nervous. Amanda’s eyes were blazing, her figure trembling with sudden
irritation.
“How dare you fall asleep?” she cried, “am I to be left with no one to
take care of me? oh, you all want to kill me. Give me my drops, you
cruel, wicked, sleepy, lazy, wicked girl! You don’t know how?--oh, you
know well enough how to walk about with my husband--how to make love to
him. My drops! can’t you understand?--there, in that bottle; you can
read, I suppose, though you are a fool. Oh, to leave me to this horrid
girl! Oh, to have no one to take care of me! My drops? can’t you hear?
I’ll make it heard all over the house. My drops! Oh, you little idiot,
can’t you do that much? I always said you was a fool; walk about with
another woman’s husband--torment a man with clinging to him--but as for
being of use. My drops! Put them in the glass, idiot! Can’t you see I
want to go to sleep?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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