The Small House at Allington, Vol. 2 of 2 (Classic Reprint)

At the end of the first week she gave way I won't get up, Bell, she said one morning, almost petulantly. I am ill - I had better lie here out of the way. Don't make a fuss about it. I'm stupid and foolish, and that makes me ill.

Thereupon Mrs. Dale and Bell were frightened, and looked into each other's blank faces, remembering stories of poor broken-hearted girls who had died because their loves had been unfortunate, -as small wax tapers whose lights are quenched if a breath of wind blows upon them too strongly. But then Lily was in truth no such slight taper as that. Nor was she the stem that must be broken because it will not bend. She bent herself to the blast during that week of illness, and then arose with her form still straight and graceful, and with her bright light unquenched.

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