The Richest Heart

Chapter 21

Emiline lay awake in bed, watching her dying candle flame flicker. Hours had slipped past. She couldn't have guessed what time it was. Beside her, Elizabeth snored in happy slumber, but Emma couldn't even close her eyes. Ever since Grandma Adler had taken over her bedroom, she hadn't been able to sleep fitly. Her bed wasn't comfortable and the room smelt musty. The girl turned over in bed and let out a miserable sigh. Would she ever get to sleep that night? Or would she lie awake until the daylight crept into her attic room? She could imagine herself sitting at school the next morning, her head nodding toward her desktop. Miss Weed would be upset. She would want to know why Emiline was falling asleep during her lessons. Emma groaned in humiliation. Admitting that she was afraid of the dark would be too embarrassing.

The light in the room dimmed as the candle melted into its holder. The flame struggled for life.

"No, no, no!" Emiline whispered. She sheltered the golden fire from every draft with her cupped hands, but in a second it went out with a puff of gray smoke. An ocean of darkness surrounded the girl. The longer she stared into the pitch blackness, the more

she began to see with her imagination. A mountain lion crouched in the shadows, a tall figure stood in the corner. If there had been enough light, she would have seen that both of those forms had been made by stacked boxes and trunks. Even without the light, she knew that was the case. But it didn't help her at all.

"If I can't sleep," she thought in self-pity, "I might as well get out of this horrible place!" Her eyes flitted over to the box that served as her night stand. On it, next to the old candlestick, she knew her book lay waiting for her. "The living room will be bright enough," she told herself. "Father built a big fire this evening." Grandma's old bones couldn't take the chilly nights of autumn and she had begged Emma's father to make the fire as hot as he possibly could.

Emiline reached out and took her book in hand. She still hadn't read its first words; still hadn't discovered what delights it held. But, she was about to find out. She slipped out of bed carefully, being sure not to wake Lizzy. Then, tip toeing across the squeaky boards, she finally made her way to the living room.

"Ah, light!" she thought in relief. The shadows were long, but she could see every object clearly. The room was swelteringly hot. But, it was better than the chill of fear in that awful attic. Emma curled up in her father's big chair and leaned over its arm to let the firelight gleam on her book. Carefully, she lifted the beautiful cover and began the first page. It almost seemed like a boring book at first, but the longer Emma read, the more it captivated her. It began with a guard and two other men who met in the middle of the night. As they watched over the kingdom, they began to talk about a strange thing that they had seen two nights in a row; a ghost in the image of their dead king. The girl read with big, frightened eyes. Her skin began to crawl. Suddenly a loud squeak from the staircase broke the silence. Emiline let out a startled cry and dropped her book clumsily. Aglow with light from the candle in her hand, her grandmother stood on the stairs, looking rosy with life.

"Emiline!" Grandmother began in concern. "What are you doing awake at an hour like this? Are you alright, Dear?" She walked down the rest of the steps with stifled moans and came into the room. Emiline tried to shake her fears away. With trembling hands she picked up her book and tucked it under her arm.

"I couldn't sleep," she answered simply.

"Why not? Are you sick?" the old woman asked worriedly. She pressed a hand against her granddaughter's forehead and then made the girl look up into her pale, gray eyes. "You look well enough," she said. The blood rushed to Emiline's cheeks in embarrassment.