Queenie's Whim, Volume 3 by Rosa Nouchette Carey

"I cannot take that anguish'd look to wear / On my calm heart in heaven, as my last, / Last memory of thee until we meet. / Nay, thou must smile on me; one little smile / Cast like a wild-flower on my misty way / Will make it brighter, and I cannot go / In peace until thou bless me. " / '_Ezekiel and other Poems._'

Emmie's closing remarks that night had left no distinct impression on / her sister's mind; but Queenie had little idea of the tenacity with / which the child brooded over the matter, or how the weary young brain / confused itself with endless plans and plotting. That some one must / take care of Queenie, that was her one thought.

And so one morning, when Queenie had softly crept out of her room, / thinking Emmie's closed eyelids betokened sleep, and had started for / her fresh morning walk, the child painfully and slowly dragged / herself from her bed, and with failing breath, and hands that / trembled over their task, penned the pitiful little letter that wrung / Garth's heart as he read it.

Queenie found her on her return lying wan and exhausted on her / pillow, and bent over her with undisguised anxiety.

"Where is Harriet, darling? She ought not to have neglected you in / this way," she exclaimed in distress, putting back the curls from the / child's damp forehead.

Emmie only closed her eyes in answer, but an odd little smile hovered / round her lips. She knew that Harriet was that moment walking down / the Esplanade, towards the red pillar-box on the green.

And this was the letter that Garth read and handed to Langley with / undisguised emotion, and over which Langley cried until her feeble / strength was nearly exhausted.

"Dear Mr. Garth," it began, "you are such a long way off -- you and / Langley and Cathy, and we never hear from you now; and Queenie has / left off talking about you, and has taken to sighing instead; and I / want so badly to see you, and have a long, long talk. If you knew / how badly, I am sure you would come.

"I don't think people ever die without saying good-bye to their / friends, and I want to bid you good-bye, and ask you to take care of / Queenie. Some one must take care of her, you know; and I like you so / much, dear Mr. Garth; and I think no one will be so good and kind to / her as you would be.

"Queenie does not know that I am writing this; she has gone out to / buy me some roses. She is doing something for me from morning to / night, but I am sure it would make you sad to see her. She never / smiles now, and her eyes are always full of tears. She is thinking / of the time when she will be missing me. It will be soon now, for I / get more tired every day.

"Do come, my dear, dear Mr. Garth. I think I like you next best to / any one in the world but Queenie, except perhaps Langley and Cathy. / Do come, please, to

"Your loving and tired little Emmie."

Queenie was sadly disturbed by the child's restlessness during that / day and the next; all her sweet placidity seemed gone. She was / feverish and eager; it was difficult to soothe her. She started at / every sound; an opening door, even the stoppage of vehicles in the / street, would bring the flush to her white face, and she would sit up / among her pillows, palpitating and expectant.

"What is it, Emmie darling? What is the matter? " Queenie would say / to her over and over again.

"Oh, it is nothing; I am only very silly," the child would answer, / sinking back with a disappointed face. Of course her letter had not / reached him, it was such a long, long way off. How was it possible / for him to come yet? And then a new fear tormented her. If he / delayed at all, if he took a long time to think about it, would he be / in time?

It was on the evening of the second day when this fresh thought began / to harass her. The day had been hot and thundery, and she had / suffered much from the oppression of the atmosphere.

When Dr. Bennet saw her that night he let fall a word or two that / stirred Queenie's numb pain to sharp, positive agony.

"You think she is worse, Dr. Bennet? I can read it in your face," / she asked, her poor hands working with the effort to keep calm.

"I think there is a change of some sort; you must be prepared for / anything now, my dear Miss Marriott. Poor little soul, one cannot / wish her to suffer," continued the warm-hearted doctor, who had / daughters of his own.

"No; I do not wish her to suffer, God forbid that I should be so / selfish; but oh, Emmie! " and then she turned away, lest the bitter / flood of her sorrow should overwhelm her. There would be time enough / to weep when her work was finished, she needed all her strength for / Emmie now.