When he
came to me his hand's grasp was firm and strong. His kiss and whisper
came together, "I will write." A moment later and he had gone. Clara
went to her own room, to cry a little softly as she afterward said, and
so the time wore on till the evening found us again all around the
table, and old grey Timothy, our cat, had the boldness to sit in Louis'
chair, which made Clara laugh through her tears. Joy and sorrow go hand
in hand, and while we felt his loss so keenly, his letters were a great
pleasure.
Hal had his share as well as Clara and I, and mother used to read every
one of Hal's. It seemed strange to me to have anything to keep from
mother, and had she opened the door I would have told her all, but she
never asked me about Louis' letters, and until I overheard a
conversation between my father and her I was held in silence; then the
ice was broken, for father said:
"I do not know what to do. It is possible that this bright young fellow
will play the part that so many do, and our innocent Emily be made the
sufferer. When he comes again we will try and manage to have her away.
She is a good girl and capable beside. Her life must not be blighted,
but we must also be careful not to hurt Clara's feelings. Clara is a
good little woman, and how we should miss her if she left us!"
"Well," said my mother, "I do not feel alarmed about our Emily, but, of
course, it is better to take too much precaution than not enough," and
their conversation ended.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69