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Updated: June 25, 2025
"How has she been?" he asked of Ester, in passing. "Just as she is now." Ester's voice was not only dry, but sarcastic. Mr. Vane scanned the doctor's face eagerly, but it was grave and sad. Quiet reigned in the room. The two men at Florence's side neither spoke nor stirred. Ester kept her seat across from them, and grew every moment more sure that she was right, and more provoked.
On the whole Ester was glad when all the bewildering ceremony of the dinner was concluded, and she, on the strength of her being wearied with her journey, was permitted to retire with Abbie to their room. "Now I have you all to myself," that young lady said, with a happy smile, as she turned the key on the retreating Maggie and wheeled an ottoman to Ester's side. "Where shall we commence?
I must have one of these. Are you going to keep yours?" And as he spoke he reached forward and possessed himself of one of the cards. "Rather odd things to be found in our possession, wouldn't they be? Abbie now would be just one of this sort." That cold shiver trembled again through Ester's frame as she listened. Clearly he did not reckon her one of "that sort."
Van Anden was tramping about in his room, over the side piazza, a very unusual proceeding with him at that hour of the day; his windows were open, and he was singing, and the fresh lake wind brought tune and words right down to Ester's ear: "I would not have the restless will That hurries to and fro, Seeking for some great thing to do, Or wondrous thing to know; I would be guided as a child, And led where'er I go.
Something like this flitted through Ester's brain as she looked around upon that faithless company, and noted here and there one who certainly ought to "take up his cross." Then some slight idea of the folly of that expression struck her. What a fearful cross it was, to be sure!
The first thing upon which Ester's eye alighted when she turned again to the table was the letter in which she had been writing those last words: "Why life isn't half long enough for the things that I want to do." Very quietly she picked up the letter and committed it to the glowing coals upon the grate. Her mood had changed.
And suddenly seating her tin of biscuit on one chair and herself on another, Sadie covered her face with both hands and actually cried. "Why, Sadie, you poor dear child, what can be the matter?" And Ester's voice was full of anxiety, for it was almost the first time that she had ever seen tears on that bright young face. Sadie's first remark caused a sudden revulsion of feeling.
"He is graver than ten ministers," Ester said, as they turned from the window. "Come, Abbie, let us go up stairs." It was two hours later when Abbie entered the sitting-room where Ester awaited her, and curled herself into a small heap of white muslin at Ester's feet. "There!" said she, with a musical little laugh, "mother has sent me away. The measure of her disgust is complete now. Dr.
"It has been more than I could do to keep cool anywhere," Mrs. Holland answered. "I gave it up long ago in despair." Ester's lip curled a little. Mrs. Holland had nothing in the world to do, from morning until night, but to keep herself cool. She wondered what the lady would have said to the glowing kitchen, where she had passed most of the day.
She read that last verse over again, with an uncomfortable consciousness that she was not getting on very well; but try as she would, Ester's thoughts seemed resolved not to stay with that first chapter of John they roved all over New York, visited all the places that she had seen, and a great many that she wanted to see, and that seemed beyond her grasp, going on meantime with the verses, and keeping up a disagreeable undercurrent of disgust.
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