'O Signora! there is no danger of that,' replied Maddelina, 'my mother
cannot miss the fruit, for I saved it from my own supper. You will make
me very unhappy, if you refuse to take it, Signora.' Emily was so
much affected by this instance of the good girl's generosity, that she
remained for some time unable to reply, and Maddelina watched her in
silence, till, mistaking the cause of her emotion, she said, 'Do not
weep so, Signora! My mother, to be sure, is a little cross, sometimes,
but then it is soon over,--so don't take it so much to heart. She often
scolds me, too, but then I have learned to bear it, and, when she has
done, if I can but steal out into the woods, and play upon my sticcado,
I forget it all directly.'
Emily, smiling through her tears, told Maddelina, that she was a good
girl, and then accepted her offering. She wished anxiously to know,
whether Bertrand and Dorina had spoken of Montoni, or of his designs,
concerning herself, in the presence of Maddelina, but disdained to tempt
the innocent girl to a conduct so mean, as that of betraying the private
conversations of her parents. When she was departing, Emily requested,
that she would come to her room as often as she dared, without offending
her mother, and Maddelina, after promising that she would do so, stole
softly back again to her own chamber.
Thus several days passed, during which Emily remained in her own room,
Maddelina attending her only at her repast, whose gentle countenance and
manners soothed her more than any circumstance she had known for many
months. Of her pleasant embowered chamber she now became fond, and
began to experience in it those feelings of security, which we naturally
attach to home. In this interval also, her mind, having been undisturbed
by any new circumstance of disgust, or alarm, recovered its tone
sufficiently to permit her the enjoyment of her books, among which she
found some unfinished sketches of landscapes, several blank sheets of
paper, with her drawing instruments, and she was thus enabled to amuse
herself with selecting some of the lovely features of the prospect,
that her window commanded, and combining them in scenes, to which her
tasteful fancy gave a last grace. In these little sketches she generally
placed interesting groups, characteristic of the scenery they animated,
and often contrived to tell, with perspicuity, some simple and affecting
story, when, as a tear fell over the pictured griefs, which her
imagination drew, she would forget, for a moment, her real sufferings.
Thus innocently she beguiled the heavy hours of misfortune, and, with
meek patience, awaited the events of futurity.