was swept and waxed; the walls were still white from their last whitewashing. The blankets were a bit worn and patched, but still the bed was freshly made and tightly tucked. Aurora could see the girl was pleased.
"Oh, I don't want you to go . . . but I do cherish the thought of my own room!" Faith burst out.
Aurora laughed. "I understand completely. I remember what a palace this little room was compared to sleeping downstairs with the children."
"Yet now what will your room be like?"
Faith's question caught Aurora off guard. "I—I really don't know," she managed to say. "I suppose when I get there, it will be much the same as this one."
"Except it won't be in a shabby old orphanage, will it? It'll be in a great mansion. You'll quickly forget us."
Aurora met Faith's reproachful stare. Immediately she went to her and took both her hands in her own. "I have to go, Faith. You know I must."
A tear fell down Faith's cheek. The girl wiped it away with a vengeance. "Why did Mrs. Bluefield have to die of consumption? Now John Phipps has come along and in one year ruined everything!"
Aurora's expression filled with sorrow. They hugged and Faith wept on her shoulder. When the girl's tears were spent, Aurora pulled back and said, "Now you know, Faith, John will take good care of the Home. He really is a decent man. It's just that I . . . well, I cannot seem to get along with him."
"He's a madman."
"No, no!" Aurora exclaimed.
"He is," Faith persisted, hiccoughing. "Your leaving is driving him crazy. He's been in a fit ever since you told him you wanted to go."
Aurora didn't meet her gaze. She wanted to deny Faith's words but it was difficult. From all outward appearances, John was a steady young man, righteously bent on improving the Home now that he'd inherited, but there were times . . . there were times when he seemed a bit unbalanced. And, unfortunately, she had always caught his attention more than the other girls at the Home, so she'd seen more of his erratic behavior.
She took a deep breath and finally looked at Faith. "He wouldn't hurt anyone. You know that, Faith. If I ever thought he'd do anything wrong, I would never leave. John just doesn't like to be told 'No,' but when I'm gone, he'll run the Home in a decent manner, I promise you that."
"I know. But I wish you weren't going. He frightens me."
"There's no reason to be frightened!"
"He does strange things. Especially where you're concerned!"
"What do you mean?" Aurora asked, not sure she really wanted to know.
"Just yesterday I saw him staring at the sampler you made for Mrs. Bluefield when you were a child. And it's such a shame for it was a beautiful sampler, too, Aurora. It must have taken you months."
"What happened to it?" Aurora whispered.
"It's gone. John Phipps stood staring at it in the eating hall. Then I watched him calmly take it from its frame and put it into the hearth like it was merely kindling. Oh, Aurora, he was so cold about it!"
Aurora turned away, sickened. The sampler had taken her nearly fifteen months to complete. Even now, years later, she could remember how painstakingly she had made each little stitch. She also recalled how pleased Mrs. Bluefield had been by it. She had stitched Mrs. Bluefield's own motto at the bottom—"Toil endeth the follies of the day." Now, almost bitterly, she thought it should have read, "Folly endeth the toils of the day."
"Aurora, must you go?"
With a troubled gaze Aurora looked at Faith. "Surely you see I must? He just will not leave me alone, and I cannot marry him. I know I shall probably never have such a chance for a husband again, but it's all wrong and
I'd rather die an old spinster than marry him. Do you hate me for that?"
Sadly Faith shook her head. They hugged once more. When Aurora broke free, she gathered her willow hamper, which held all her belongings, and went to the door. But before she left, she took a lone book that sat upon her dresser and pressed it into Faith's hands.
"The
"Oh, I don't want you to go . . . but I do cherish the thought of my own room!" Faith burst out.
Aurora laughed. "I understand completely. I remember what a palace this little room was compared to sleeping downstairs with the children."
"Yet now what will your room be like?"
Faith's question caught Aurora off guard. "I—I really don't know," she managed to say. "I suppose when I get there, it will be much the same as this one."
"Except it won't be in a shabby old orphanage, will it? It'll be in a great mansion. You'll quickly forget us."
Aurora met Faith's reproachful stare. Immediately she went to her and took both her hands in her own. "I have to go, Faith. You know I must."
A tear fell down Faith's cheek. The girl wiped it away with a vengeance. "Why did Mrs. Bluefield have to die of consumption? Now John Phipps has come along and in one year ruined everything!"
Aurora's expression filled with sorrow. They hugged and Faith wept on her shoulder. When the girl's tears were spent, Aurora pulled back and said, "Now you know, Faith, John will take good care of the Home. He really is a decent man. It's just that I . . . well, I cannot seem to get along with him."
"He's a madman."
"No, no!" Aurora exclaimed.
"He is," Faith persisted, hiccoughing. "Your leaving is driving him crazy. He's been in a fit ever since you told him you wanted to go."
Aurora didn't meet her gaze. She wanted to deny Faith's words but it was difficult. From all outward appearances, John was a steady young man, righteously bent on improving the Home now that he'd inherited, but there were times . . . there were times when he seemed a bit unbalanced. And, unfortunately, she had always caught his attention more than the other girls at the Home, so she'd seen more of his erratic behavior.
She took a deep breath and finally looked at Faith. "He wouldn't hurt anyone. You know that, Faith. If I ever thought he'd do anything wrong, I would never leave. John just doesn't like to be told 'No,' but when I'm gone, he'll run the Home in a decent manner, I promise you that."
"I know. But I wish you weren't going. He frightens me."
"There's no reason to be frightened!"
"He does strange things. Especially where you're concerned!"
"What do you mean?" Aurora asked, not sure she really wanted to know.
"Just yesterday I saw him staring at the sampler you made for Mrs. Bluefield when you were a child. And it's such a shame for it was a beautiful sampler, too, Aurora. It must have taken you months."
"What happened to it?" Aurora whispered.
"It's gone. John Phipps stood staring at it in the eating hall. Then I watched him calmly take it from its frame and put it into the hearth like it was merely kindling. Oh, Aurora, he was so cold about it!"
Aurora turned away, sickened. The sampler had taken her nearly fifteen months to complete. Even now, years later, she could remember how painstakingly she had made each little stitch. She also recalled how pleased Mrs. Bluefield had been by it. She had stitched Mrs. Bluefield's own motto at the bottom—"Toil endeth the follies of the day." Now, almost bitterly, she thought it should have read, "Folly endeth the toils of the day."
"Aurora, must you go?"
With a troubled gaze Aurora looked at Faith. "Surely you see I must? He just will not leave me alone, and I cannot marry him. I know I shall probably never have such a chance for a husband again, but it's all wrong and
I'd rather die an old spinster than marry him. Do you hate me for that?"
Sadly Faith shook her head. They hugged once more. When Aurora broke free, she gathered her willow hamper, which held all her belongings, and went to the door. But before she left, she took a lone book that sat upon her dresser and pressed it into Faith's hands.
"The
Similar Books
Finding Forever (Smoky Mountain Lawmen Book 1)
Ashley Quinn
Poems 1962-2012
Louise Glück
Private Politics (The Easy Part)
Emma Barry
Unquiet Slumber
Paulette Miller
Exit Lady Masham
Louis Auchincloss
Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips
Per Hampton
Trade Me
Courtney Milan
The Day Before
Liana Brooks
