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Show Page 145 Cisly, taking the wooden spoon from her hand and leading her toward their bed. "Nay. I want you to go and chop wood or finish that stool you and John began last week." "I want to be with you," Cisly pouted, sounding just like Twig when he had been scolded. "You can bide with me for now," Anne agreed. "But when I say go, you must." The afternoon shadows were reaching long fingers across the room when Anne's pains began in earnest. At a loss to know what to do, I helped her into her nightgown and made her as comfortable as I could upon her bed, then busied myself setting out a trencher of food for Cisly. At last Anne bade him leave. "I cannot cry out when he is here," she whispered to me, sweat beading upon her brow. "It upsets him so to think I am in pain. Is there no sign yet of Margaret?" I shook my head, praying that she would appear at the door that very moment. Never had I felt so helpless. "She will come soon," I reassured her, dampening a rag to wipe her face. It was not until after day going that Margaret finally came. By then Anne was becoming tired, but her spirits were unflagging. The same could not be said for Cisly, who sat |
