Bessie never could go to sleep properly when
anything out of the common way was coming to pass, so that was the
less wonder; but she had a great deal in her head, and she was glad
to get Christabel to kneel down by her, to listen to her whispers.
"Dear Christabel, I am so sorry. I never cared about it before!"
"About what, my dear?"
"What Papa said about when he was in the Black Sea. I never knew
Mamma cared so much."
"I dare say not, my dear; you were much younger then."
"And I didn't know all about it," said Bessie, "or else I've
forgotten. I have been trying to remember whether we ever thought
about Mamma; and oh, Christabel! do you know--I believe we only
thought she was cross! Oh dear! it was so naughty and bad of us!"
"I can guess how it happened, my dear. You were not old enough to be
made her friends, and you could not understand quiet sorrow."
"To think we should have said she was cross!"
"That was wrong, because it was disrespectful. You see, my dear,
when grown people are in trouble, you young ones can't enter into
their feelings, nor always even find out that anything is amiss; and
you get vexed at there being a cloud over the house, and call it
crossness.
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