Lizzy Glenn; Or, The Trials of a Seamstress Part 4

"I don't feel hungry, mother," said she, as she laid herself back upon the pillow.

"But you've eaten scarcely any thing to-day: Try and take a little more, dear. It will do you good."

"I can't, indeed, mother." And a slight expression of loathing pa.s.sed over the child's face.

"Can't you think of something you could eat?" urged the mother.

"I don't want any thing. The orange tasted good, and that is enough for to-night," Ella replied, in a cheerful voice.

Mrs. Gaston then sat down by the table with Henry and Emma, and ate a small portion of bread and mola.s.ses. But this food touched not her palate with any pleasurable sensation. She ate, only because she knew that, unless, she took food, she would not have strength to perform her duties to her children. For a long series of years, her system had been accustomed to the generous excitement of tea at the evening meal. A cup of good tea had become almost indispensable to her. It braced her system, cleared her head, and refreshed her after the unremitting toils of the day. But, for some time past, she had felt called upon, for the sake of her children, to deny herself this luxury--no, comfort--no, this, to her, one of the necessaries of life. The consequence was that her appet.i.te lost its tone. No food tasted pleasantly to her; and the labors of the evening were performed under depression of spirits and nervous relaxation of body.

This evening she ate, compulsorily, as usual, a small portion of dry bread, and drank a few mouthfuls of warm water, in which a little milk had been poured. As she did so, her eyes turned frequently upon the face of Henry, a fair-haired, sweet-faced, delicate boy, her eldest born--the first pledge of pure affection, and the promise of a happy wedded life. Sadly, indeed, had time changed since then. A young mother, smiling over her first born--how full of joy was the sunlight of each succeeding day! Now, widowed and alone, struggling with failing and unequal strength against the tide that was slowly bearing her down the stream, each morning broke to her more and, more drearily, and each evening, as it closed darkly in, brought another shadow to rest in despondency upon her spirit.

Faithfully had she struggled on, hoping still to be able to keep her little ones around her. The proposition of Michael to put out Henry startled into activity the conscious fear that had for some months been stifled in her bosom; and now she had to look the matter full in the face, and, in spite of all her feelings of reluctance, confess to herself that the effort to keep her children around her must prove unavailing. But how could she part with her boy? How could she see him put out among strangers? How could she bear to let him go away from her side, and be henceforth treated as a servant, and be compelled to perform labor above his years? The very thought made her sick.

Her frugal meal was soon finished, and then the children were put to bed. After laying away their clothes, and setting back the table from which their supper had been eaten, Mrs. Gaston seated herself by the already nearly half burned penny candle, whose dim light scarcely enabled her failing eyesight to discern the edges of the dark cloth upon which she was working, and composed herself to her task. Hour after hour she toiled on, weary and aching in every limb. But she remitted not her labors until long after midnight, and then not until her last candle had burned away to the socket in which it rested. Then she put aside her work with a sigh, as she reflected upon the slow progress she had made, and, disrobing herself, laid her over-wearied body beside that of her sick child.

Ella was asleep; but her breathing was hard, and her mother perceived, upon laying her hand upon her face, that her fever had greatly increased. But she knew no means of alleviation, and therefore did not attempt any. In a little while, nature claimed for her a respite. Sleep locked her senses in forgetfulness.

CHAPTER III.

DEATH OF MRS. GASTON'S CHILD.--A MOTHER'S ANGUISH.

ON the next morning, at the earliest dawn, Mrs. Gaston arose. She found Ella's fever still very high. The child was restless, and moaned a good deal in her sleep.

"Poor little thing!" murmured the mother, as she bent over her for a moment, and then turned away, and commenced kindling a fire upon the hearth. Fortunately, for her, she had saved enough from her earnings during the summer to buy half a cord of wood; but this was gradually melting away, and she was painfully conscious that, by the time the long and severe winter had fairly set in, her stock of fuel would be exhausted; and at the prices which she was receiving for her work, she felt that it would be impossible to buy more. After making the fire, she took her work, and drew near the window, through which the cold faint rays of the morning were stealing. By holding the work close to the light, she could see to set her needle, and in this way she commenced her daily toil. An hour was spent in sewing, when Emma aroused up, and she had to lay by her work to attend to her child.

Ella, too, had awakened, and complained that her head ached badly, and that her throat was very sore. Half an hour was spent in dressing, was.h.i.+ng, and otherwise attending to her children, and then Mrs. Gaston went out to get something for breakfast. On entering the shop of Mrs. Grubb, she met with rather a more courteous reception than had been given her on the morning previous.

"Ah! good-morning, Mrs. Gaston! Good-morning!" said that personage, with a broad, good-natured smile. "How is Ella?"

"She seems very poorly, Mrs. Grubb. I begin to feel troubled about her. She complains of a sore throat this morning, and you know the scarlet fever is all about now."

"Oh, no! never fear that, Mrs. Gaston. Ella's not down with the scarlet fever, I know."

"I trust not. But I have my fears."

"Never take trouble on interest, Mrs. Gaston. It is bad enough when it comes in the natural way. But what can I do for you?"

"I think I must have a cent's worth of coffee this morning. My head aches so that I am almost blind. A strong cup of coffee I am sure will do me good. And as I have a hard day's work before me, I must prepare for it. And then I must have a pint of milk and a three-cent loaf of bread for the children. That must do me for the present. We have some mola.s.ses left."

"You'll want a little dried meat, or a herring, or something to give you a relish, Mrs. Gaston. Dry bread is poor eating. And you know you can't touch mola.s.ses." Half in sympathy did Mrs. Grubb utter this, and half as a dealer, desirous of selling her goods.

"Nothing more just now, I believe," the poor woman replied. "I must be prudent, you know, and count over every cent."

"But you'll make yourself sick, if you don't eat something more than you do. So come now; treat yourself to a herring, or to a penny's worth of this sweet b.u.t.ter. You'll feel all the better for it, and do more than enough work to pay the cost twice over."

Mrs. Gaston's appet.i.te was tempted. The hard fresh b.u.t.ter looked inviting to her eyes, and she stooped over and smelled it half involuntarily.

"I believe you are right, Mrs. Grubb," she said. "You may give me a couple of cents' worth of this nice b.u.t.ter."

An ounce of b.u.t.ter was carefully weighed out, and given to the customer.

"Isn't there something else, now, that you want?" said the smiling shopkeeper, leaning her elbows upon the counter, and looking encouragingly into the face of Mrs. Gaston.

"I've indulged myself, and I shall not feel right, unless I indulge the children a little also," was the reply; "so weigh me two cents'

worth of your smoked beef. They all like it very much."

The smoked beef was soon ready, and then the mother hurried home to her children.

After the morning meal had been prepared, Mrs. Gaston sat down and ate her bread and b.u.t.ter, tasting a little of the children's meat, and drinking her coffee with a keen relish. She felt braced up on rising from the table, and, but for the illness of Ella, would have felt an unusual degree of cheerfulness.

Henry attended the common school of the district, and, soon after breakfast, prepared himself to go. As he was leaving, his mother told him to call at Doctor R--'s, and ask him if he would be kind enough to stop and see Ella. She then seated herself once more beside her little work-table. The two foreparts of the jacket had been finished, except the b.u.t.ton-holes; and the sleeves were ready to put in as soon as the body of the garment was ready for them. As the b.u.t.ton-holes tried the sight of Mrs. Gaston severely, she chose that part of the day, when her eyes were fresh, to work them. The jacket was double-breasted, and there were five holes to be worked on each side. She had nearly completed one-half of them, when Doctor R--came in. He looked serious upon examining his patient. Said she was very ill, and required immediate attention.

"But you don't think it the scarlet fever, doctor?" the mother said, in a low, alarmed voice.

"Your child is very sick, madam; and, to tell you the truth, her symptoms resemble too closely those of the fever you have named,"

was the undisguised reply.

"Surely, my cup is full and running over!" sobbed Mrs. Gaston, clasping her hands together as this sudden announcement broke down, for a moment, her self-control, while the tears gushed from her eyes.

Doctor R--was a man of true feeling. He had attended, in two or three cases of illness, the children of Mrs. Gaston, and had observed that she was a woman who had become, from some cause, greatly reduced in circ.u.mstances. His sympathies were strongly awakened at seeing her emotion, and he said, in a kind but firm voice:

"A mother, the safety of whose child depends upon her calm and intelligent performance of duty, should never lose her self-control."

"I know that, doctor," the mother answered, rallying herself with a strong effort. "But I was over-tried already, and your sudden confirmation of my worst fears completely broke me down."

"In any event, however," the doctor replied, "you must not permit yourself to forget that your child is in the hands of Him who regards its good in a far higher sense than you can possibly. He never permits sickness of any kind without a good end."

"I know that, doctor, but I have a mother's heart. I love my children, and the thought of losing them touches me to the quick."

"And yet you know that, in pa.s.sing from this to another state of existence, their condition must be bettered beyond comparison."

"Oh, yes. Beyond comparison!" replied the mother, half abstractedly, but with touching pathos. "And yet, doctor, I cannot spare them.

They are every thing to me."

"Do not suffer yourself to indulge needless alarm. I will leave you medicine now, and call again to-morrow. If she should be decidedly worse, send for me toward evening."

After the doctor went away, Mrs. Gaston gave the medicine he had left, as directed, and then forced herself from the bedside, and resumed her work. By the time the b.u.t.ton-holes of the garment she was engaged upon were all completed, and the back and shoulder seams sewed up, it was time to see about something for dinner. She put aside the jacket, and went to the bed. Ella lay as if asleep. Her face was flushed, and her skin dry and hot. The mother looked upon her for a few moments with a yearning heart; then, turning away, she took from a closet her bonnet and shawl, and a little basket.

Pa.s.sing quickly down-stairs, after telling Emma to keep very still and be a good girl until she came back, she took her way toward the market-house. At a butcher's she obtained, for three cents, some bones, and then at one of the stalls bought a few herbs, a head of cabbage, and three turnips; the whole at a cost of sixpence.

With these she returned home, renewed her fire, and, after preparing the bones and vegetables she had procured, put them into an iron pot with some water, and hung this upon the crane. She then sat down again to her work.

At twelve o'clock Henry came in from school, and brought up an armful of wood, and some water, and then, by direction of his mother, saw that the fire was kept burning briskly. At one, Mrs.

Gaston laid by her work again, and set the table for dinner. Henry went for a loaf of bread while she was doing this, and upon his return found all ready. The meal, palatable to all, was a well-made soup; the mother and her two children ate of it with keen appet.i.tes.

When it was over, Henry went away again to school and Mrs. Gaston, after administering to Ella another dose of medicine, sat down once more to her work. One sleeve remained to be sewed in, when the garment would only require to have the collar put on, and be pressed off. This occupied her until late in the afternoon.