I
suppose I shan't mind it after a while."
She sat for a few minutes, musing over the possibility or
impossibility of ever forming her lips to the words "Uncle
Abraham," "Uncle Van Brunt," or barely "uncle;" her soul
rebelled against all three. "Yet, if he should think me
unkind, then I must — oh! rather fifty times over than that!"
Looking up, she saw a change in Alice's countenance, and
tenderly asked —
"What is the matter, dear Alice? what are you thinking about?"
"I am thinking, Ellie, how I shall tell you something that
will give you pain."
"Pain! you needn't be afraid of giving me pain," said Ellen,
fondly, throwing her arms around her. "Tell me, dear Alice; is
it something I have done that is wrong? what is it?"
Alice kissed her, and burst into tears.
"What is the matter; oh, dear Alice!" said Ellen, encircling
Alice's head with both her arms, "oh, don't cry! do tell me
what it is!"
"It is only sorrow for you, dear Ellie."
"But why?" said Ellen, in some alarm; "why are you sorry for
me? I don't care if it don't trouble you, indeed I don't?
Never mind me; is it something that troubles you, dear Alice?"
"No, except for the effect it may have on others."
"Then I can bear it," said Ellen; "you need not be afraid to
tell me, dear Alice; — what is it? don't be sorry for me!"
But the expression of Alice's face was such that she could not
help being afraid to hear: she anxiously repeated, "what is
it?"
Alice fondly smoothed back the hair from her brow, looking
herself somewhat anxiously and somewhat sadly upon the
uplifted face.
Pages:
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716