The Wide, Wide World | Page 7

stronger, kinder by far than I am, even if I
could always be with you; and what will you do when I am away from
you? And what would you do, my child, if I were to be parted from you
forever?"
"Oh, Mamma!" said Ellen, bursting into tears, and clasping her arms
round her mother again — "Oh, dear Mamma, don't talk about it!"
Her mother fondly returned her caress, and one or two tears fell on
Ellen's head as she did so, but that was all, and she said no more.
Feeling severely the effects of the excitement and anxiety of the
preceding day and night, she now stretched herself on the sofa, and lay
quite still. Ellen placed herself on a little bench at her side, with her
back to the head of the sofa, that her mother might not see her face; and,
possessing herself of one of her hands, sat with her little head resting
upon her mother, as quiet as she. They remained thus for two or three
hours without speaking; and Mrs. Montgomery was part of the time
slumbering; but now and then a tear ran down the side of the sofa, and
dropped on the carpet where Ellen sat: and now and then her lips were
softly pressed to the hand she held, as if they would grow there.
The doctor's entrance at last disturbed them. Dr. Green found his
patient decidedly worse than he had reason to expect; and his sagacious
eye had not passed back and forth many times between the mother and
daughter before he saw how it was. He made no remark upon it,
however, but continued for some moments a pleasant chatty
conversation which he had begun with Mrs. Montgomery. He then
called Ellen to him; he had rather taken a fancy to her.
"Well, Miss Ellen," he said, rubbing one of her hands in his, "what do
you think of this fine scheme of mine?"
"What scheme, Sir?"
"Why, this scheme of sending this sick lady over the water to get well;
what do you think of it, eh?"

"Will it make her quite well, do you think, Sir?" asked Ellen, earnestly.
" 'Will it make her well?' — to be sure it will. Do you think I don't
know better than to send people all the way across the ocean for
nothing? Who do you think would want Dr. Green if he sent people on
wild-goose-chases in that fashion?"
"Will she have to stay long there before she is cured, Sir?" asked Ellen.
"Oh, that I can't tell; that depends entirely on circumstances — perhaps
longer, perhaps shorter. But now, Miss Ellen, I've got a word of
business to say to you; you know you agreed to be my little nurse. Mrs.
Nurse, this lady whom I put under your care the other day, isn't quite as
well as she ought to be this morning; I am afraid you haven't taken
proper care of her; she looks to me as if she had been too much excited.
I've a notion she has been secretly taking half a bottle of wine, or
reading some furious kind of a novel, or something of that sort — you
understand? Now mind, Mrs. Nurse," said the doctor, changing his tone
— "she must not be excited — you must take care that she is not — it
isn't good for her. You mustn't let her talk too much, or laugh much, or
cry at all, on any account; she mustn't be worried in the least — will
you remember? Now, you know what I shall expect of you; you must
be very careful; if that piece of toast of yours should chance to get
burned, one of these fine evenings, I won't answer for the consequences.
Good-bye," said he, shaking Ellen's hand; "you needn't look sober
about it; all you have to do is to let your Mamma be as much like an
oyster as possible; you understand? Good-bye." And Dr. Green took his
leave.
"Poor woman!" said the doctor to himself, as he went down stairs (he
was a humane man) — "I wonder if she'll live till she gets to the other
side! That's a nice little girl, too. Poor child! poor child!"
Both mother and daughter silently acknowledged the justice of the
doctor's advice, and determined to follow it. By common consent, as it
seemed, each for several days avoided bringing the subject of sorrow to
the other's mind; though no doubt it was constantly present to both. It
was not spoken of; indeed, little of any kind was spoken of, but that

never. Mrs. Montgomery was doubtless employed, during this interval,
in preparing for what she believed was before her; endeavouring to
resign herself and her child