I have hardly
strength enough for a little walk in the garden.'
'You would have more strength if you went out more,' pleaded Mary,
almost with tears. 'Mr. Horton says sun and wind are the best doctors
for you. Lesbia, you frighten me sometimes. You are just letting
yourself fade away.'
'If you knew how I hate the world and the sky, Mary, you wouldn't urge
me to go out of doors,' Lesbia answered, moodily. 'Indoors I can read,
and get away from my own thoughts somehow, for a little while. But out
yonder, face to face with the hills and the lake--the scenes I have
known all my life--I feel a heart-sickness that is worse than death. It
maddens me to see that old, old picture of mountain and water, the same
for ever and ever, no matter what hearts are breaking.'
Mary crept close beside her sister's couch, put her arm round her neck,
laid her cheek--rich in the ruddy bloom of health--against Lesbia's
pallid and sunken cheek, and comforted her as much as she could with
tender murmurs and loving kisses. Other comfort, she could give none.
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