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Words: 91274 in 46 pages
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dress half torn off in the scuffle, leaving exposed her beautifully-molded shoulders and back, while with her little hands she clutched the remaining rags closely about her person. With her dilated nostrils, flushed cheeks, and flashing eyes, she made a tableau worth looking at.
"Come here," hissed Mrs. Markham, in a tone that made Rose's flesh creep.
Rose moved slowly toward her.
"Take off those rags--every one of them."
"I can not," said Rose; "oh, don't make me; I can not."
"Take them off, I say. What! do you mean to resist me?" and grasping her tightly by the wrist, she drew her through a long passage-way, down a steep pair of stairs, and pushing her into a dark closet, turned the key on her and strode away.
"Obstinate little minx," she said, as she passed Timmins, on her return to her rocking-chair and to her nap.
"Hark! Mrs. Markham! Mrs. Markham!--what's that groan? Hadn't I better open the door and peep in?"
"That is always the way with you, Timmins: no, of course not. She can affect groaning as well as she can affect delicacy; let her stay there till her spirit is well broke; when I get ready I will let her out myself;" and Mrs. Markham walked away.
But Timmins was superstitious, and that groan haunted her, and so she went back to the closet to listen. It was all very still; perhaps it was not Rose, after all; and Timmins breathed easier, and walked a few steps away; and then again, perhaps it was, and Timmins walked back again. It would do no harm to peep, at any rate; the key was in the lock, and Mrs. Markham never would know it. Timmins softly turned it;--she called,
"Rose!"
No answer. She threw open the blind in the entry, that the light might stream into the closet. There lay the child in strong convulsions. Timmins knew she risked nothing in calling Mrs. Markham now.
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