Little Eyebright and her pund o' careGiberne, Agnes
Religion
Little Eyebright and her pund o' care
Giberne, Agnes
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction; Domestic fiction; Friendship -- Juvenile fiction; Money -- Juvenile fiction
"You could have helped it with common care. So absurd, to go rushing
about in a strange house, where you didn't know your way. It was not
your business to offer to get the basket at all. If you hadn't meddled,
this wouldn't have happened." The implied rebuke of Euphrasia's action
to her own lazy inaction rankled still.
"I thought I ought," in a constrained tone.
"Well, I hope you are satisfied!"
Letitia's unkindness cut deeply. Euphrasia could hardly have believed
in such a display of temper to one in her then position. She had to
wring her hands under the bed clothes, for self-control before speaking
again.
"I want to say one thing. Please don't let this make any difference
about your going to Bath. If I should not get away quite so soon as I
had meant to do, I should like you to go just the same. There's no need
for you to be here. It would only make me miserable to think that you
stayed at home on my account."
"Mother won't hear of it."
Then the question had been already mooted!
"I would so much rather—I would, indeed. I don't want anybody. I shall
just lie quiet, and nobody need take any trouble, till the doctor says
I may travel. I want to go on Monday or Tuesday, but it might perhaps
have to be Wednesday."
"Tuesday! Wednesday! Why, Robert says you won't be able to travel for a
month at least—six weeks very likely. He says it's out of the question.
And he won't even hear of your getting up for some days. I am sure I
don't know how we shall manage. The servants are always grumbling as it
is about their work."
A month or six weeks. Euphrasia's heart died within her.
"He can't mean that! He didn't tell me. He only talked of a few days."
"Oh, that was to pacify you, of course. I suppose I ought not to have
told you, but I forgot. Don't go and repeat it, or you'll get me into a
scrape."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IX
A PRISONER
BEFORE morning, Euphrasia knew well that getting up was at present
a matter, not of course, but of absolute incapacity. Bruised back
and strained side had asserted themselves, and might alone have been
enough to enforce a short imprisonment, but the knee was far worse. The
slightest movement meant an unbearable thrill of agony, and all through
the long night she had hardly dared to let herself drop asleep, because
of the inevitable awakening.
"Won't quite do for a journey yet, will it?" the doctor said kindly.
"But will this go on long?"
"I hope not. You have given the knee a most awkward twist, and the
least additional strain now might make it very serious. Nothing for
such a case but absolute rest. I don't want to keep you in bed longer
than need be, but I am afraid a few days are necessary. Then we must
try to get you on a sofa."
"But all that means so much trouble. Oh, I could not," Euphrasia was
dismayed almost to the point of tears. "How can I? Among strangers! I'd
rather just lie quiet here, and give no trouble. Much rather!"
"You are of an independent spirit."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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