But this wise resolution it was very hard for poor
Ellen to keep. She was unaccustomed to concealments; and in
ways that she could neither foresee nor prevent, the unwelcome
truth would come up, and the sore was not healed.
One day Ellen had a headache and was sent to lie down. Alone,
and quietly stretched out on her bed, very naturally Ellen's
thoughts went back to the last time she had a headache at
home, as she always called it to herself. She recalled with a
straitened heart the gentle and tender manner of John's care
for her; how nicely he had placed her on the sofa; how he sat
by her side bathing her temples, or laying his cool hand on
her forehead, and once, she remembered, his lips. "I wonder,"
thought Ellen, "what I ever did to make him love me so much,
as I know he does!" She remembered how, when she was able to
listen, he still sat beside her, talking such sweet words of
kindness, and comfort, and amusement, that she almost loved to
be sick to have such tending, and looked up at him as at an
angel. She felt it all over again. Unfortunately, after she
had fallen asleep, Mrs. Lindsay came in to see how she was,
and two tears, the last pair of them, were slowly making their
way down her cheeks. Her grandmother saw them, and did not
rest till she knew the cause. Ellen was extremely sorry to
tell, she did her best to get off from it, but she did not
know how to evade questions; and those that were put to her
indeed admitted of no evasion.
Pages:
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887