There was only one match in the box. She
drew it carefully along the wall. For a moment it burnt up blue, and
showed the tiny face with its glistening eyes. She held it carefully to
the paper. For an instant it burnt up brightly, then flickered and went
out. She blew the spark, but it died also. Then she threw the paper on to
the ground, trod on it, and went to her bed, and began to undress.
Em rushed to the door, knocking against it wildly.
"Oh, Tant Sannie! Tant Sannie! Oh, let us out!" she cried. "Oh, Lyndall,
what are we to do?"
Lyndall wiped a drop of blood off the lip she had bitten.
"I am going to sleep," she said. "If you like to sit there and howl till
the morning, do. Perhaps you will find that it helps; I never heard that
howling helped any one."
Long after, when Em herself had gone to bed and was almost asleep, Lyndall
came and stood at her bedside.
"Here," she said, slipping a little pot of powder into her hand; "rub some
on to your face. Does it not burn where she struck you?"
Then she crept back to her own bed. Long, long after, when Em was really
asleep, she lay still awake, and folded her hands on her little breast, and
muttered--
"When that day comes, and I am strong, I will hate everything that has
power, and help everything that is weak." And she bit her lip again.
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