Read Black Rainbow for Free Online Page B

tomboy."
    The bright vision of childhood faded. Jane's smile was tinged with sadness. "I missed him desperately when he went off to school, and I have seen so little of him since. ... This last year was the worst; every newspaper I read was filled with horrors. But you know of the awful suffering in the trenches before Sevastopol. I visualized Edmund freezing on those bleak heights in winter, wounded and abandoned—and the hospitals were worse than the trenches. It is still going on; and I feel guilty, Megan, when I thank God for Edmund's miraculous survival, when so many are still suffering and dying."
    Her voice broke. Touched by this rare demonstration of sensibility, Megan put her hand over the fingers that had given up all pretense of working.
    "It will soon be over, everyone says so. And conditions have improved; you know of Miss Nightingale and the wonderful things she has done with the hospitals."
    "Yes, God bless her. She makes me proud to be a woman. Well, but this is a depressing conversation. Shall we have some music? Play something very loud and very cheerful, please."
    When she knelt beside her comfortable bed that night, Megan prayed for the suffering men in the Crimea. Her plea that she be allowed to remain in the house that was daily becoming more dear to her was tacked on to the end of the petition instead of constituting its main thesis.
    Her unselfish piety was rewarded, as is so often the case, by a day of extreme personal discomfort. She awoke to the sound of rain and the sight of dreary gray skies. A tightness at the back of her throat warned her of the beginning of a cold, and as the day wore on, all the other horrid symptoms of that affliction made their appearance. Deprived of outdoor exercise by the weather, Lina was maddeningly naughty. When she finished the day's misadventures by burning her hand on the fender, after being warned a dozen times to stay away from the fire, Megan snapped at her instead of expressing sympathy. Lina howled, Megan blew her nose, and the cat spat at both of them before leaving the room in search of more civilized companionship.
    Having looked forward all day to the evening meeting with Jane, Megan was discouraged to find her friend in equally gloomy spirits. Soon after they settled down with their sewing, the maid entered to announce a visitor, the mention of whose name sent Jane into a rage.
    "Belts? Mr. Belts? How dare he call at such an hour, without an invitation? I am not at home, Bessy."
    "He says it is important, miss."
    "I will be at the mill tomorrow if he wishes to see me. Why are you standing there, Bessy? Didn't you hear me clearly?"
    The maid scuttled out, and Jane began to embroider furiously, jabbing her needle in and out of the canvas with a vigor that suggested she would have preferred a living target. Apparently Mr. Belts accepted his dismissal, for no further message was delivered. After a time Jane's temper cooled. She stopped attacking the canvas and apologized.
    "You must think me very rude."
    "Why, no. It is certainly a strange hour to call."
    "But typical of George Belts. He continues to cherish the unfounded delusion that I am delighted to see him whenever he chooses to honor me with his presence."
    "Oh?" There was inquiry in Megan's voice. She did not venture to express the question she wanted to ask, but it was not hard to fathom; and after a moment Jane began to laugh, falling into such a fit of merriment that her feet flew up in the air and the chair came perilously close to tipping over.
    "You are so well bred, Megan," she chuckled, wiping her eyes. "Why don't you ask straight out? You are dying to know whether George Belts is a suitor, and whether I am playing coy in order to increase his ardor."
    "Oh, Jane, I assure you—"
    "Well, of course you are. It is the common habit of fashionable young ladies to act that way. But you ought to know me well enough by now to understand that I am not a fashionable young lady. And if you had seen Belts,