Part 24 (1/2)
”I will,” said Maria. ”I will talk. It is the only comfort I have. What is she up to now?”
”Just that,” said Matilda. ”She found I had been to Lilac Lane, and she said I must not go again without her knowing; and she will never let me go. I needn't ask her. She doesn't like me to go there. And I wanted to do so much! If she could only have waited--only have waited----”
”What made you let her know you had been there?”
”She found out. I couldn't help it. Now she will not let me go ever again. Never, never!”
”What did you want to do in Lilac Lane, Tilly?”
”Oh, things. I wanted to do a great deal. Things.--They'll never be done!” cried Matilda, in bitter distress. ”I cannot do them now. I cannot do anything.”
”She is as mean as she can live!” said Maria again. ”But Tilly, I don't believe Lilac Lane is a good place for you, neither. What did you want to do there? what _could_ you do?”
”Things,” said Matilda, indefinitely.
”You are not old enough to go poking about Lilac Lane by yourself.”
”I can't go any way,” said Matilda.
She cried a long while to wash down this disappointment, and the effects of it did not go off in the tears. The child became very silent and sober. Her duties she did, as she had done them, about the house and in Mrs. Candy's room; but the bright face and the glad ways were gone. In the secret of her private hours Matilda had struggles to go through that left her with the marks of care upon her all the rest of the time.
The next Sunday she was made to go to church with her aunt. She went to her own Sunday-school in the afternoon; but she was not allowed to get off early enough for the reading and talk with Mary and Ailie. Lem Dow, however, was on hand; that was one single drop of comfort. He looked for his sugared almonds and they were on hand too; and besides that, Matilda was able to see that he was quite pleased with the place and the singing and the doings in his cla.s.s, and making friends with the boys.
”Will you come next Sunday?” Matilda asked him, as they were going out.
He nodded.
”Won't Jemima come too, if you ask her?”
”I won't ask her.”
”No? why not?”
”I don't want her to come.”
”You don't want her to come? Why it is a pleasant place, isn't it?”
”It's a heap more jolly if she ain't here,” said Lem, knowingly.
It was a difficult argument to answer, with one whose general benevolence was not very full grown yet. Matilda went home thinking how many people wanted something done for them, and how she could touch n.o.body. She was not allowed to go to church in the evening.
CHAPTER VI.
The days seemed to move slowly. They were such troublesome days to Matilda. From the morning bath, which was simply her detestation, all through the long hours of reading, and patching, and darning in Mrs.
Candy's room, the time dragged; and no sooner was dinner over, than she began to dread the next morning again. It was not so much for the cold water as for the relentless hand that applied it. Matilda greatly resented having it applied to her at all by any hand but her own; it was an aggravation that her aunt minded that, and her, no more than if she had been a baby. It was a daily trial, and daily trouble; for Matilda was obliged to conquer herself, and be silent, and submit where her whole soul rose and rebelled. She must not speak her anger, and pleadings were entirely disregarded. So she ran down in the morning when her aunt's bell rang, and was pa.s.sive under all that Mrs. Candy pleased to inflict; and commanded herself when she wanted to cry for vexation, and was still when words of entreaty or defiance rose to her lips. The sharp lesson of self-control Matilda was learning now. She had to practise it again when she took her hours of needlework. Mrs.
Candy was teaching her now to knit, and now to mend lace, and then to make b.u.t.tonholes; and she required perfection; and Matilda was forced to be very patient, and careful to the extreme of carefulness, and docile when her work was pulled out, and persevering when she was quite tired and longed to go down and help Maria in the kitchen. She was learning useful arts, no doubt, but Matilda did not care for them; all the while the most valuable thing she was learning was the lesson of power over herself. Well if that were all. But there were some things also down in the bottom of Matilda's heart which it was not good to learn; and she knew it; but she did not know very well how to help it.
Several weeks had gone by in this manner, and now June was about over.