Yet there
was strong indignation likewise, and she could not easily resolve on
meeting the hard defiance and sullen indifference which would wound
her more than ever. She was much inclined to leave Sophy to herself
till morning, but suspecting that this would be vindictive, she
unclasped the arm that Lucy had wound round her waist, whispered to
her to go on singing, and moved to Sophy's door. It was fastened,
but before she could call, it was thrown violently back, and Sophy
stood straight up before her, striving for her usual rigidity, but
shaking from head to foot; and though there were no signs of tears,
she looked with wistful terror at her step-mother's face, and her
lips moved as if she wished to speak.
'Baby is gone quietly to sleep,' began Albinia in a low voice,
beginning in displeasure; but as she spoke, the harshness of Sophy's
face gave way, she sank down on the floor, and fell into the most
overpowering fit of weeping that Albinia had ever witnessed.
Kneeling beside her, she would have drawn the girl close to her, but
a sharp cry of pain startled her, and she found the right arm, from
elbow to wrist, all one purple bruise, the skin grazed, and the blood
starting.
'My poor child! how you have hurt yourself!'
Sophy turned away pettishly.
'Let me look! I am sure it must be very bad. Have you done anything
to it?'
'No, never mind. Go back to baby.'
'Baby does not want me.
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