Ednas Sacrifice and Other Stories

Edna's Sacrifice and Other
Stories, by

Frances Henshaw Baden
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Title: Edna's Sacrifice and Other Stories Edna's Sacrifice; Who Was the
Thief?; The Ghost; The Two Brothers; and What He Left
Author: Frances Henshaw Baden
Release Date: March 28, 2005 [eBook #15486]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
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SACRIFICE AND OTHER STORIES***
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EDNA'S SACRIFICE, AND OTHER STORIES
by
FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN

CONTENTS
EDNA'S SACRIFICE
WHO WAS THE THIEF?
THE GHOST
THE TWO BROTHERS
WHAT HE LEFT

EDNA'S SACRIFICE
It was a cold night in September. For three days the rain had fallen
almost unceasingly. It had been impossible for us to get out; and no
visitors had been in. Everything looked dreary enough, and we felt so,
truly. Of course the stoves were not prepared for use; and this night we
(that is, Nell, Floy, Aunt Edna, and myself) were huddled in the corners
of the sofa and arm-chairs, wrapped in our shawls. We were at our wits'
end for something to while the hours away. We had read everything
that was readable; played until we fancied the piano sent forth a wail of
complaint, and begged for rest; were at the backgammon board until
our arms ached; and I had given imitations of celebrated actresses, until
I was hoarse, and Nell declared I was in danger of being sued for
scandal. What more could we do? To dispel the drowsiness that was
stealing over me, I got up, walked up and down the floor, and then
drew up the blind, and gazed out into the deserted street. Not a footfall
to be heard, neither man's nor beast's; nothing but patter, patter, patter.
At length, after standing fully fifteen minutes--oh, joyful sound!--a
coming footstep, firm and quick. My first thought was that those steps
would stop at our door. But, directly after, I felt that very improbable,
for who was there that would come such a night? Papa was up north
with mamma; Nell and Floy were visiting Aunt Edna and me, the only
ones home, save the servants. Neither of us had as yet a lover so
devoted or so demented as to come out, if he had anywhere to stay in.
On and past went the steps. Turning away, I drew down the blind, and
said: "Some one must be ill, and that was the doctor, surely: for no one
else would go out, only those from direst necessity sent."
A deep sigh escaped Aunt Edna's lips, and although partially shaded by
her hand, I could see the shadow on the beautiful face had deepened.
Why my aunt had never married was a mystery to me, for she was
lovable in every way, and must have been very beautiful in her youth.
Thirty-six she would be next May-day, she had told me. Thirty-six
seemed to me, just sixteen, a very great many years to have lived. But
aunt always was young to us; and the hint of her being an old maid was
always resented, very decidedly, by all her nieces.
"Aunt Edna," I said, "tell us a story--a love-story, please."
"Oh, little one, you have read so many! And what can I tell you more?"
she answered, gently.

"Oh, aunty, I want a true story! Do, darling aunty, tell us your own.
Tell us why you are blessing our home with your presence, instead of
that of some noble man, for noble he must have been to have won your
heart, and--hush-sh! Yes, yes; I know something about somebody, and
I must know all. Do, please!"
I plead on. I always could do more with Aunt Edna than any one else. I
was named for her, and many called me like her--"only not nearly so
pretty" was always added.
At last she consented, saying:
"Dear girls, to only one before have I given my entire confidence, and
that was my mother. I scarce know why I have yielded to your
persuasions, little Edna, save that this night, with its gloom and rain,
carries me back long years, and my heart seems to join its pleading
with yours, yearning to cast forth some of its fulness, and perchance
find relief by pouring into your loving heart its own sorrows. But,
darling, I would not cast my shadow over your fair brow, even for a
brief time."
With her hand still shading her face, Aunt Edna began:
"Just such a night