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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

"You have put your mother into
a high fever," said he; "here's a pulse; I do wish you would be more
considerate."
The commandant did not come to dinner as usual. The evening passed
heavily; their hearts were full of uncertainty.
"We miss our merry, spirited companion," said the baroness with a grim
look at Rose. Both young ladies assented with ludicrous eagerness.
That night Rose came and slept with Josephine, and more than once she
awoke with a start and seized Josephine convulsively and held her tight.
Accused of egoism! at first her whole nature rose in arms against the
charge: but, after a while, coming as it did from so revered a person,
it forced her to serious self-examination. The poor girl said to
herself, "Mamma is a shrewd woman. Am I after all deceiving myself?
Would she be happy, and am I standing in the way?" In the morning she
begged her sister to walk with her in the park, so that they might be
safe from interruption.
There, she said sadly, she could not understand her own sister. "Why are
you so calm and cold, while am I in tortures of anxiety? Have you made
some resolve and not confided it to your Rose?"
"No, love," was the reply; "I am scarce capable of a resolution; I am a
mere thing that drifts.


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