she was an old lady, even before the time.
And this vision of youthful, vigorous beauty was like a sudden sunburst,
when the day had been dull and cloudy. She seemed to animate the room,
to light up the farthest recesses, to bring a breath of revivifying air
and hope.
"I have wanted you so," the invalid said piteously. "Oh, how strong and
well you are! I never was very strong, and so the illness has taken a
deeper hold on me. And now you must help me to get well. Your freshness
will be an elixir--that is what I have wanted. Wanamee is good for a
servant nurse, but I have needed something finer and better."
She held out her hand and Rose pressed it to her lips. It was bony,
showing swollen blue veins, and had a clammy coldness that struck a
chill to the rosy lips.
"Did you like them at the Heberts? They are very staid people, and think
only of work, I believe."
"They were very kind, and I found them well-informed about everything."
"Why, when they know so much, can they not cure me? You know it is not
as though my case was very serious. I am weak, that is all. The doctor
came down from Tadoussac, but he just shook his head, and his powders
did me no good. M. Hebert sent some extracts of herbs, but nothing gives
me any strength. And the snow and cold stays on as if spring would never
come. What have you been doing all this while? You couldn't run about in
the woods."
"Oh, Madame, I am outgrowing that wild longing, though the trees have a
hundred voices, and I seem to understand what they say, and the song of
the birds, the ripple and plash of the river. But I have been learning
other things. How great the world is, and the stories of kings and
queens, and brave travellers, who go about and discover new places. It
widens one's subjects of thought. And I have learned some cooking, and
how to make home seem cheerful, and the weaving of pretty laces, like
those the ships bring over. I am not so idle now."
"And you liked them very much?" She uttered this rather resentfully.
"Ah, Madame, how could one help, when people were so good, and took so
much pains with one."
Her voice was sweet and appealing, yet it had a strand of strength and
appreciation. But had _she_ not been good to the little girl all these
years!
"Has Mam'selle Therese any lover?" she asked, after a pause.
"Not yet, Madame. Some old family friends are to come over in the
summer, and one has a son that Therese played with in childhood.
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