Gratia's Trials — page 117: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

108 - GRATIA’S TRIALS. She lifted the latch of the kitchen door. ~All there was as if she had left it but an hour ago. ‘‘They are gone out somewhere to ioe the afternoon,” said Gratia to herself. ‘‘ All the better; they never took Ray- mond with them. He has gone up to his room for some- thing.” She had just laid her hand on the latch of the stair-way door, when the door directly opposite was opened, and Mrs. Playfair came into the room, carrying a tin saucepan. She started so violently that she had nearly dropped her utensil at the sight of a stranger. ‘“Mr. Kempfield and his wife are gone to Wingley,” she said, recovering herself-in some degree. ‘‘I expect ‘em back every minute.” ‘‘Where is Raymond?” asked Gratia, striving to overcome a huskiness in her voice, for there was some indefinable aspect about Mrs. Playfair, her dress and manner, that filled her mind with fear. ‘‘Well, I declare!” said Mrs, Playfair, ‘‘if it isn’t Gratia !” **Ves, it is I,” said Gratia. ‘‘ Where is my brother, Mrs, Playfair?” . ‘‘ Well, there !” again ejaculated Mrs. Playfair. ‘‘ Hain’t you heerd? But I might ha’ knowed you hadn't, or you'd ha’ been here afore.” ‘‘ Heard what? Why don’t you answer me, Mrs, Playfair?” Gratia had turned very white; a chill dew oozed out through the pores of her skin, and her knees seemed losing all strength to support her. By way of reply, the good-hearted neighbor opened the door of the room in which her mother had died, and beckoned to Gratia to cross the hall and enter, A fire blazed on the hearth, and there was the indescribable smell of a sick-room pervading the atmosphere. These two: things Gratia noted before her bewildered eyes caught sight of the little pale, pinched face among the pillows and the trans- parent hands lying on the spread. meas » comicbooks.co