But the busy
needles never stopped their click, and the sonorous voice read on
without a pause, so Christie never knew what mute confidences passed
between mother and son, or what helpful confessions her traitorous
face had made for her.
The clock struck nine, and these primitive people prepared for rest;
for their day began at dawn, and much wholesome work made sleep a
luxury.
"Davy will tap at thy door as he goes down in the morning, and I
will soon follow to show thee about matters. Good-night, and good
rest, my child."
So speaking, the little lady gave Christie a maternal kiss; David
shook hands; and then she went away, wondering why service was so
lightened by such little kindnesses.
As she lay in her narrow white bed, with the "pale light of stars"
filling the quiet, cell-like room, and some one playing softly on a
flute overhead, she felt as if she had left the troublous world
behind her, and shutting out want, solitude, and despair, had come
into some safe, secluded spot full of flowers and sunshine, kind
hearts, and charitable deeds.
CHAPTER XL
IN THE STRAWBERRY BED.
FROM that day a new life began for Christie, a happy, quiet, useful
life, utterly unlike any of the brilliant futures she had planned
for herself; yet indescribably pleasant to her now, for past
experience had taught her its worth, and made her ready to enjoy it.
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