Wives and Widows; or, The Broken LifeStephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
General
Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life
Stephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
Fiction
Jessie did not look up as I approached; she stood absently pulling the
flowers from a vine that fell in luxuriant masses over a trellis by her
side, and appeared so much engrossed by her own thoughts, that she did
not even hear my footsteps.
They were not pleasant reflections which filled her mind. Sunny visions,
such as those which, a few weeks since, had made her face so bright and
beautiful, were seldom on her features now. I could see by the mournful
expression of her mouth, and the despondency of her whole attitude,--so
unlike anything I was accustomed to remark in our Jessie, that something
was troubling her.
"You naughty girl!" I said, as I ascended the steps; "how can you find
the heart to spoil that pretty vine?"
She started, turned quickly round, and a burning blush shot up to her
forehead, while she looked at me in a confused way, as if she supposed
me able to read her very thoughts.
"Oh! is it you, Aunt Matty?" she exclaimed, trying to laugh and seem
more at ease.
"I believe so," was my answer; "I have every reason to suppose that I am
that person, and very tired into the bargain."
"You look fatigued," she said, with her usual kindness; "do go up-stairs
and lie down before dinner."
"Now, my dear, you know I am never guilty of that weakness."
"I forgot."
"How could you? I am astonished--when you know how much I pride myself
on regular habits and a systematic disposal of my time!"
She laughed a little at my nonsense, which was the thing I desired; for
it pained me greatly to see her look so weary and disconsolate.
"At all events, you will sit down, I suppose," she said, running into
the hall and bringing out a chair. "Your rigid principles do not prevent
that!"
"Thank you, my dear. I am happy to say they do not."
I seated myself, really glad of an opportunity to rest; for now that
excitement had passed, I was astonished to find myself worn out in body
and mind. The mere walk could never have produced that sensation--I was
too much accustomed to out-door exercise for any fine lady feebleness of
that kind; but my interview with Bosworth and his friends, the sight of
Mrs. Dennison and Mr. Lawrence in the wood, together with Lottie's
revelations, had so worked upon my mind, that I had no strength left.
"Dear me! Aunt Matty!" exclaimed Jessie; "how tired and pale you look! I
never saw you so overcome!"
"It is nothing. I walked faster than I ought, perhaps."
"That is not all," she answered; "I am sure something troubles you."
"So there does!" I said,--"very greatly!"
"Can I help you? You know how gladly I will do it."
She began untying my bonnet-strings, drawing off my shawl, and
performing every little office possible to show her solicitude.
Generally, I dislike to have anybody touch me, or assist me in any way;
but it was always a pleasure to feel Jessie's fingers smoothing my hair,
or arranging my collar; and just then her assiduity quieted me more than
anything else could have done.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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