PAGE 21
The Ruined Family
by
“But surely, Anna, you do not stand up all day long.”
“Yes. Since I left this morning, I have been standing every moment, with the exception of the brief period I took to eat my dinner.”
This simple statement smote upon the heart of the young man, and made him silent and thoughtful. He felt that, but for his neglect of duty–but for his abandonment of himself to sensual and besotting pleasures, this suffering, this self-devotion need not be.
Anna saw that what she had said was paining the mind of her brother, and she grieved that she had been betrayed into making any allusion to herself. To restore again the pleased expression to Alfred’s countenance, she dexterously changed the subject to a more cheerful one, and was rewarded for her effort by seeing his eye again brighten and the smile again playing about his lips.
Instead of sitting down after tea and assisting Mary with her embroidery, as she usually did, Anna took a book and read aloud for the instruction and amusement of all; but most for the sake of Alfred-that he might feel with them a reciprocal pleasure, and thus be enabled to perceive that there was something substantial to fall back upon, if he would only consent to abandon the bewildering and insane delights to which he had given himself up for years. The effect she so much desired was produced upon the mind of her brother. He did, indeed, feel, springing up within him, a new-born pleasure,–and wondered to himself how he could so long have strayed away from such springs of delight, to seek bitter waters in a tangled and gloomy wilderness.
When the tender good-night was at last said, and Mary stretched her wearied limbs in silent thoughtfulness beside her sister, there was a feeble hope glimmering in the dark and gloomy abyss of doubt and despondency that had settled upon her mind–a hope that her brother would go forth from his sick chamber a changed man. On this hope, fancy conjured up scenes and images of delight, upon which her mind dwelt in pleased and dreamy abstraction, until sleep stole upon her, and locked up her senses.
When she awoke, it was with the same sinking sensation that she had experienced on the morning previous, and, indeed, on every morning for many months past. The remembrance of the rebuke she had received on the day before for being late at her place of business, acted as a kind of stimulant to arouse her to exertion, so as to be able to get off in time. It was, however, a few minutes past the hour when she entered the store, the owner of which looked at his watch, significantly, as she did so.
This day passed, as the previous one had, in pain and extreme weariness–and so did the next, and the next, the poor girl’s strength failing her too perceptibly. During this time, Alfred’s coat had been repaired, a pair of pantaloons and a vest bought for him, and also a second-hand hat of very respectable appearance–all ready so soon as he should be strong enough to venture out. How anxiously, and yet in fear and trembling, did the sisters look forward to that period, which was to strengthen their feeble hopes, or scatter them to the winds!
“I do really feel very ill,” Anna said, sinking back upon her pillow, after making an attempt to rise, one morning some four or five days after that on which Mary has been represented as endeavouring to get an advance from Mrs.–.
“What is the matter?” Mary inquired kindly.
“My head aches most violently–and grows confused so soon as I attempt to rise.”
“Then I would lie still, Anna.”
“No, I must be up, and getting ready to go to the store.”
“I wouldn’t go down to the store, if I were you, Anna. You had better rest for a day.”
“I cannot afford to lose a day,” Anna said, again rising in bed, and sitting upright, until the swimming in her head, that commenced upon the least motion, had subsided. Then she got out upon the floor, and stood for a few moments, while her head seemed reeling, and she every instant about to sink down. In a little while this dizziness went off, but her head throbbed and ached with aggravated violence.