"I know
I'm not satisfying you and yet you won't say anything. Do tell me--
and I'll try--anything--almost anything . . ."
Then the sudden memory of her own posted letter silenced her. Was
that readiness to do "anything"? Had that not been rebellion? And
had she not asked Uncle Mathew to help her to escape? The
consciousness of her dishonesty coloured her cheek with crimson.
Then Aunt Anne, very tenderly, put her hand on her shoulder.
"Will you really do anything--for me, Maggie--for me?" Her voice was
gentle and her eyes had tears in them. "If you will--there are
things very close to my heart--"
Maggie turned away, trembling. She hung her head, then with a sudden
movement walked to the door.
"You must tell me," she said, "what you want. I'll try--I don't
understand."
Then as though she was aware that she was fighting the whole room
which had already almost entrapped her and that the fight was too
much for her, she went.
When she came to her own room and thought about her invitation she
wished, with a sudden change of mood, that she had a pretty frock or
two. She would have loved to have been grand to-night, and now the
best that she could do was to add her coral necklace and a little
gold brooch that years ago her father had given her, to the black
dress that she was already wearing.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254