Mrs.
Vawse she would not allow to stay an hour. The old lady got
leave, however, to go up to the sick room for a few minutes.
Ellen, who was then in a high fever, informed her that her
mother was downstairs, and her aunt Fortune would not let her
come up; she pleaded, with tears, that she might come, and
entreated Mrs. Vawse to take her aunt away, and send her
mother. Mrs. Vawse tried to soothe her. Miss Fortune grew
impatient.
"What on earth's the use," said she, "of talking to a child
that's out of her head? she can't hear reason; that's the way
she gets into whenever the fever's on her. I have the pleasure
of hearing that sort of thing all the time. Come away, Mrs.
Vawse, and leave her; she can't be better any way than alone,
and I am in the room every other thing — she's just as well
quiet. Nobody knows," said Miss Fortune, on her way down
stairs — "nobody knows the blessings of taking care of other
people's children that han't tried it. _I've_ tried it, to my
heart's content."
Mrs. Vawse sighed, but departed in silence.
It was not when the fever was on her and delirium high that
Ellen most felt the want she then so pitifully made known.
There were other times — when her head was aching, and, weary
and weak, she lay still there — oh, how she longed then for
the dear wonted face, the old quiet smile that carried so much
of comfort and assurance with it, the voice that was like
heaven's music, the touch of that loved hand to which she had
clung for so many years! She could scarcely bear to think of
it, sometimes.
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