"Stepmother," said Cecile softly, "'tis very late; may I bring in
your night-dress and air it by the fire, and then may I help you to
get into bed, stepmother dear?"
"No, Cecile," replied the sick woman. "I'm not going to stir from
this yere sofa to-night."
"Oh, but then--but then you won't be quite well to-morrow," said the
child, tears springing to her eyes.
"Who said I'd be quite well to-morrow?" asked Cecile's stepmother.
"Dr. Austin, mother; I asked him, and he said, 'Yes,'--at least he
said 'Perhaps,' but I think he was very sure from his look."
"Aye, child, aye; he was very sure, but he was not meaning what you
were meaning. Well, never mind; but what was that you called me just
now, Cecile?"
"I--I----" said Cecile, hesitating and coloring.
"Aye, like enough 'twas a slip of your tongue. But you said,
'Mother'; you said it without the 'step' added on. You don't know
--not that it matters now--but you won't never know how that
'stepmother' hardened my heart against you and Maurice, child."
"'Twas our father," said Cecile; "he couldn't forget our own mother,
and he asked us not to say 'Mother,' and me and Maurice, we could
think of no other way. It wasn't that we--that I--didn't love."
"Aye, child, you're a tender little thing; I'm not blaming you, and
maybe I couldn't have borne the word from your lips, for I didn't
love you, Cecile--neither you nor Maurice--I had none of the mother
about me for either of you little kids.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25