Hannah's heart ached for her sister.

"This will never do," she said; "suspense is killing her. I must end

it."

So one morning while they were at work as usual, and Nora's hand was

pausing on her spindle, and her eyes were fixed upon the narrow path

leading through the Forest Valley, Hannah spoke: "It will not do, dear; he is not coming! he will never come again; and

since he cannot be anything to you, he ought not to come!"

"Oh, Hannah, I know it; but it is killing me!"

These words were surprised from the poor girl; for the very next instant

her waxen cheeks, brow, neck, and very ears kindled up into fiery

blushes, and hiding her face in her hands she sank down in her chair

overwhelmed.

Hannah watched, and then went to her, and began to caress her, saying: "Nora, Nora, dear; Nora, love; Nora, my own darling, look up!"

"Don't speak to me; I am glad he does not come; never mention his name

to me again, Hannah," said the stricken girl, in a low, peremptory

whisper.

Hannah felt that this order must be obeyed, and so she went back to her

loom and worked on in silence.

After a few minutes Nora arose and resumed her spinning, and for some

time the wheel whirled briskly and merrily around. But towards the

middle of the day it began to turn slowly and still more slowly.

At length it stopped entirely, and the spinner said: "Hannah, I feel very tired; would you mind if I should lay down a little

while?"

"No, certainly not, my darling. Are you poorly, Nora?"

"No, I am quite well, only tired," replied the girl, as she threw

herself upon the bed.

Perhaps Hannah had made a fatal mistake in saying to her sister, "He

will never come again," and so depriving her of the last frail plank of

hope, and letting her sink in the waves of despair. Perhaps, after all,

suspense is not the worst of all things to bear; for in suspense there

is hope, and in hope, life! Certain it is that a prop seemed withdrawn

from Nora, and from this day she rapidly sunk. She would not take to her

bed. Every morning she would insist upon rising and dressing, though

daily the effort was more difficult. Every day she would go to her wheel

and spin slowly and feebly, until by fatigue she was obliged to stop and

throw herself upon the bed. To all Hannah's anxious questions she

answered: "I am very well! indeed there is nothing ails me; only I am so tired!"




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024