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7. Expiation
- University of Nebraska Press
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68 ch a p ter se v en Expiation Cut off thus from all intercourse with those around her, looked upon with scornful, wondering, or pitying eyes, as the case might be—for her guilt was only vaguely guessed at, as it was Mrs. Frothingham’s policy to keep secret the faults committed at her school—Christine had nothing left her but to toil on in her studies; and into these she threw her whole soul. In these she forgot, for a while, her own sorrows, and this she was glad to do, for she knew that she was growing bitter and sour towards all around her. It was hard to hear the merry laugh and cheerful conversations of her schoolmates, and to know that she could not join them, and harder still to see those merry sounds hushed as she passed by, while the group would gaze at her with awe and wonder ; to overhear sometimes, too, as she did, the various surmises as to her fault, a dreadful one, all agreed, that could deserve so severe a punishment. The consciousness of her innocence did not support her under these trials. It seemed to her that it made them all the harder to bear. She could hope nothing for the future from Annie, and gradually she submitted to her fate with a passive endurance that was almost despair. Christine 69 She had been poring over her books one evening, till her head and her very brain seemed to ache; and, leaning back in her chair, she thought of her old home, and longed, oh, how earnestly! for the sisterly love of her sweet Bessie; she who had never understood her, and yet who loved her so sincerely; she would never have doubted her, would never have believed her guilty, no matter how aggravated might be the apparent proof against her. Gradually more peaceful thoughts stole over her. Her eyes closed, and again she was in the wide fields and shady woods so familiar to her; again she laid her head on the soft, green grass, and felt the light breeze lift the hair from her fevered brow. Bessie was by her side; she laid her cool, soft hand on her head, her fragrant breath floated over her cheek, her sweet lips were pressed to her own. She started up; it had been so real she could hardly think it a dream. She looked around bewildered, where was she? No widespread hay-fields met her gaze; nothing but the four walls of her cell, as she bitterly called it. She sighed a deep heavy sigh; was she dreaming, or was it in reality re-echoed? She looked quickly behind her—there stood the slight figure of Annie Murray. A fierce flash lighted Christine ’s pale face as she looked on the girl. “Did you lay your hand on me? Did you dare to kiss me?” she exclaimed, angrily. “Forgive me, Christine,” was the poor girl’s reply, as she crouched on a low stool near her chair. Christine did not speak for many minutes. All that she had suffered came up before her, and when she lifted her bowed head to meet the fixed gaze of Annie, she said, bitterly— “Are you not satisfied with your work that you must come again to break the rules, and then, in your own peculiarly skillful way, slip out, leaving me to bear the penalty of your fault?” “Oh, Christine, do not speak so harshly,” sobbed Annie. “Indeed , I have suffered too. I could bear it no longer, to see you [44.223.94.103] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 06:25 GMT) Christine 70 innocent, and a close prisoner, shunned and despised, while I, the guilty one, was still treated with kindness. Oh, you have not suffered more intensely than I.” Joy sparkled in Christine’s hollow eyes at these words. “Annie, you have felt for me then. You were not so heartless after all, and you have come to tell me that you will absolve me from my promise?” Her tone was painful in the depth of her imploring earnestness . Annie sat silent, weeping bitterly. “Speak, Annie,” Christine hurriedly went on. “Tell me, are you ready now? Shall I send a servant, and call my aunt here at once to hear it all?” She rose, as she spoke, and approached the door, but Annie sprang forward and clutched eagerly at her dress. “Stop, stop!” she cried. “Are you mad? Remember your...