There was a damp, chilly feeling in the
air of this room. Mrs. Lowe had a knit shawl drawn around her
shoulders; but Mary, after removing her bonnet and cloak, had no
external protection for her chest beyond the closely fitting body of
her merino dress. Her feet and hands felt very cold, and she had
that low shuddering, experienced when one is inwardly chilled.
Mrs. Lowe was ready for her seamstress. There were the materials to
make half a dozen dresses for Angela and Grace, and one of the
little Misses was called immediately, and the work of selecting and
cutting a body pattern commenced, Mrs. Lowe herself superintending
the operation, and embarrassing Mary at the start with her many
suggestions. Nearly an hour had been spent in this way, when the
breakfast bell rang. It was after eight o'clock. Without saying
anything to Mary, Mrs. Lowe and the child they had been fitting,
went down stairs. This hour had been one of nervous excitement to
Mary Carson. Her cheeks were hot--burning as if a fire shone upon
them--but her cold hands, and wet, colder feet, sent the blood in
every returning circle, robbed of warmth to the disturbed heart.
It was past nine o'clock when a servant called Mary to breakfast. As
she arose from her chair, she felt a sharp stitch in her left side;
so sharp, that she caught her breath in half inspirations, two or
three times, before venturing on a full inflation of the lungs.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91