"You look tired and sick," she said. "Your cares have been too much
for one not yet strong. Let me sit by him till he wakes, and you go up
to bed."
Very gladly Maddy accepted the offered relief, and utterly worn out
with her constant vigils, she was soon sleeping soundly in her own
room, while Flora, in the little shed, or back room of the house, was
busy with her ironing. Thus there was none to follow Agnes as she went
slowly into the sick-room where Uncle Joseph lay, his thin face
upturned to the light, and his lips occasionally moving as he muttered
in his sleep. There was a strange contrast between that wasted
imbecile and that proud, queenly woman, but she could remember a time
when the superiority was all upon his side, a time when in her
childish estimation he was the embodiment of every manly beauty, and
the knowledge that he loved her, his sister's little hired girl,
filled her with pride and vanity. A great change had come to them both
since those days, and Agnes, watching him and smothering back the cry
of pain which arose to her lips at sight of him, felt that for the
fearful change in him she was answerable. Intellectual, talented,
admired and sought by all he had been once; he was a mere wreck now,
and Agnes' breath came in short, quick gasps, as glancing furtively
around to see that no one was near, she laid her hand upon his
forehead, and parting his thin hair, said, pityingly: "Poor Joseph."
The touch awoke him, and starting up he stared wildly at her, while
some memory of the past seemed to be struggling through the misty
clouds, obscuring his mental vision.
"Who are you, lady? Who, with eyes and hair like hers?"
"I'm the `madam' from Aikenside," Agnes said, quite loudly, as Flora
passed the door. Then when she was gone she added, softly: "I'm Sarah.
Don't you know me? Sarah Agnes Morris."
It seemed for a moment to burst upon him in its full reality, and to
her dying day Agnes would never forget the look upon his face, the
smile of perfect happiness breaking through the rain of tears, the
love, the tenderness mingled with distrust, which that look betokened
as he continued gazing at her, but said to her not a word. Again her
hand rested on his forehead, and taking it now in his he held it to
the light, laughing insanely at its soft whiteness; then touching the
costly diamonds which flashed upon him the rainbow hues, he said:
"Where's that little bit of a ring I bought for you?"