Emma Field Book I - coming of age in the changing times of the mid-19th century

Chapter XXII - Jane After Smallpox

"Jane will be right with you, Miss Emma," said Pauline. "But you mustn't let her see that you are shocked. She's not the beauty she once was, and she's terribly conscious of it."

"Don't worry, I won't." Emma sat on the nearest end of the sofa. The parlour was chilly.

"My apologies about the lack of heat. I haven't had the stove on for long. If you would prefer to be somewhere warmer, just come to the kitchen. The boys are so noisy. I thought that you and Jane might enjoy a little privacy. Tea, Emma?"

"Yes, thank you. Oh, hello Jane." Emma rose slowly and moved toward the doorway, where Jane was standing with her hands shielding her face.

"Hello, Emma. Now don't tell me I look fine, because I know I don't!"

"All right, I won't."

Emma looked at Pauline who asked, "Would you like tea, Jane? Emma is having a cup."

"Yes, Pauline, I would. You're not running away, Emma, now that you see how disfigured I look?"

"No, of course not. Don't be silly, Jane. You don't look...all right...you look different. Can I say that?"

"No. Don't even look at me."

"I'll get the tea." Pauline brushed past Emma.

"But how can I visit with you if I can't look at you?"

"Oh, you're right. Here, I'll close my eyes and you take a good look while I can't see your face. Say what you have to say, then say no more, all right?" She lowered her hands.

"Oh, Jane. Does it hurt?"

"Not really. It's just tight and a little itchy."

"Is your whole body like that?"

"Yes," the girl said in a small voice.

"I'm sorry, Jane."

"Sorry about what?" Jane asked defensively.

"Sorry that this has happened to you. You were always so..."

"Just say it."

"Well, you were always so pretty and that mattered so much to you...and you still are pretty, it's just that it isn't the same, and I am sorry about that. I am homely enough – it wouldn't have done me any harm to..."

"Then you'd be truly homely! At least this way we're closer to being equal." Jane laughed harshly. Emma looked at her feet. "Mother said that you made yourself a dress and that it was lovely. Did Mrs. Henderson help you with it?"

"She did. It's not new – just modified and it's not very well sewn – not nearly as pretty as your dress will be, but it's nice just the same.

"I'd like to see it."

"Well, you will...That is, if there is a wedding dance with one of the weddings – and Father and I are invited."

"Well, I still won't see it then."

"Why on earth not?"

"You think I am going to a dance looking like this!" Jane cried.

"But you don't look terribly badly!"

"I know what I look like and that's bad enough for me. I do have some pride, you know! Less all the time, but I still have a little."

"What if someone asked you to go? Would you go then?"

"No one is going to ask a girl with a face that looks like bloodied tree bark! Why do you ask? I have never known you to care about such things."