He recounted, with much
exaggeration, the scene that had just transpired between himself and
Jacquelina--repeated with additions her undutiful words, bitterly
reproached Mary for encouraging and fostering that rebellious and
refractory temper in her daughter, warned her to bring the headstrong
girl to a sense of her position and duty, or to prepare to leave his
roof; for he swore he "wouldn't be hectored over and trodden down by her
nor her daughter any longer!" And so having overwhelmed the timid,
nervous woman with undeserved reproaches and threats, he arose and left
the room.
And can any one be surprised that her illness was increased, and her
fever arose and her senses wandered all night? When her mother was ill,
Jacquelina could not sleep. Now she sat by her bedside sponging her hot
hands and keeping ice to her head and giving drink to slake her burning
thirst and listening, alas! to her sad and rambling talk about their
being turned adrift in the world to starve to death, or to perish in the
snow--calling on her daughter to save them both by yielding to her
uncle's will! And Jacquelina heard and understood, and wept and
sighed--a new experience to the poor girl, who was
"Not used to tears at night
Instead of slumber!"
All through the night she nursed her with unremitting care.
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