In the Fire

I went out for my usual evening walk, longing and half
dreading to see Mr. Thorold; for I did not like to show him my
fears; they gave him pain; and yet at the same time I wanted
him to scold them away. But this time I did not see him. I
walked the avenue, at first eagerly, then anxiously; then with
an intense pressing pain and suspense which could hardly be
borne. Neither Thorold nor Thorold's horse appeared among all
the figures moving there; and after walking as long as I
dared, I was fain to go home with that pain in my heart. It
seemed, as I went up the stairs to my room, almost as if I
could die at once with it. Yet I had to make my hair smooth
and meet Mrs. Sandford at tea, and hear all her little details
about Dr. Sandford's illness; which, as they were precisely
the same as those of the day before, had nothing even to hold
my attention for a moment. But I attended. It was necessary.
And I eat toast and drank tea. That was necessary too; with
every mouthful a stab of pain, and every little ordinary
incident of the tea-table a wrenching of my heartstrings. One
does those things quietly and the world never knows. But I
hailed it as a great relief when Mrs. Sandford rose from the
table.

"Poor Daisy!" she said. "I must leave you to yourself again -
all alone. It's too bad!"

"I like it very well so," I told her.