It was many days ere the fever abated, but there came a morning in early
May when the eyes were not so fearfully bright as they had been, while
the wild ravings were hushed, and 'Lina lay quietly upon her pillow.
"Do you know me?" Alice asked, bending gently over her, while Hugh, from
the other side of the bed, leaned eagerly forward for the reply.
"Yes, Alice, but where am I? This is not New York--not my room. Have
I--am I sick, very sick?" and 'Lina's eyes took a terrified expression
as she read the truth in Alice's face. "I am not going to die, am I?"
she continued, casting upon Alice a look which would have wrung out the
truth, even if Alice had been disposed to withhold it, which she was
not.
"You are very sick," she answered, "and though we hope for the best, the
doctor does not encourage us much. Are you willing to die, 'Lina?"
Neither Hugh nor Alice ever forgot the tone of 'Lina's voice as she
replied: "Willing? No!" or the expression of her face, as she turned it to the
wall, and motioned them to leave her.
For two days after that she neither spoke nor gave other token of
interest in anything passing around her, but at the expiration of that
time, as Alice sat by her, she suddenly exclaimed: "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
I wish He had said that some other way, for if that means we cannot be
forgiven until we forgive everybody, there's no hope for me, for I
cannot, I will not forgive Densie Densmore for being my mother, neither
will I forgive Adah Hastings for having crossed my path. If she had
never seen the doctor I should have been his wife, and never have known
who or what I was. I hate them both, Densie and Adah, so you need not
pray for me. I heard you last night, and even Hugh has taken it up, but
it's no use. I can't forgive."
'Lina was very much excited--so much indeed, that Alice could not talk
with her then; and for days this was the burden of her remarks. She
could not forgive Densie and Adah, and until she did, there was no use
for her or any one else to pray. But the prayers she could not say for
herself were said for her by others, while Alice omitted no proper
occasion for talking with her personally on the subject she felt to be
all-important. Nor were these efforts without their effect; the bitter
tone when speaking of Densie ceased at last, and Alice was one day
surprised at 'Lina's asking to see her, together with Mrs. Worthington.
Timidly, Densie approached the bed from which she had once been so
angrily dismissed. But there was nothing to fear now from the white,
wasted girl, whose large eyes fastened themselves a moment on the
wrinkled face; then with a shudder, closed tightly, while the lip
quivered with a grieved, suffering expression. She did not say to poor
old Densie that she acknowledged her as a mother, or that she felt for
her the slightest thrill of love. She was through with deception; and
when, at last, she spoke to the anxiously waiting woman, it was only to
say: "I wanted to tell you that I have forgiven you; but I cannot call you
mother. You must not expect it. I know no mother but this one," and the
white hand reached itself toward Mrs. Worthington, who took it
unhesitatingly and held it between her own, while 'Lina continued: "I've
given you little cause to love me, and I know how glad you must be that
another, and not I, is your real daughter. I did not know what made me
so bad, but I understand it now. I saw myself so plainly in that man's
eyes; it was his nature in me which made me so hateful to Hugh. Oh,
Hugh! the memory of what I've been to him is the hardest part of all,"
and covering her face with the sheet, 'Lina wept bitterly; while Hugh,
who was standing behind her, laid his warm hand on her head, smoothing
her hair caressingly, as he said: "Never mind that, 'Lina; I, too, was bad to you. If 'Lina can forgive
me, I surely can forgive 'Lina."