3
Alberta entered the room. “Mother…what is it?” She examined her mother’s pale face. “Why are you so ill?”
Miss Albury gently smiled and was about to reach out her arm, to hug her daughter, when she stopped. “It’s contagious. You must back away.”
Alberta backed away, but only a little. She exclaimed, in confusion and sadness: “But Mother! What is the cause of your suffering?”
Miss Albury looked as if she were grieving. She looked at her hands and sighed a deep sigh. “Try to forgive me one day.” She looked at the other children standing in the doorway.
“Come, Elizabeth. Come Franz, come Maryann. This may be the last time I get to gaze upon your beautiful faces.”
Elizabeth let out a cry. “That can’t be true, Mother. Are you mad?” She stayed a safe distance away.
“I hate to admit it, but yes. I’m sorry, my children, but—” Her voice was weakening and breaking up. “I’m dying. But I leave you four, with an important responsibility.” She gestured for Rita to bring her something.
Rita nodded her head and brought in a cloth. A baby lay inside.
“My children—this is your sister Marguerite.” She told the maid to give the baby to Elizabeth.
“Treat her well, children. For now, I go.” She inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her eyes never opened, since that day.
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