my misfortune; when I
first learned that I was different from other children, and must remain as
one apart, all my life. We were all coming out of school one day, and a
little quarrel arose between us children, and one of them said to me in a
scornful tone, 'Hold your tongue, Sabina, you're only a hunchback.' From
that day I never knew a happy moment, and I grew timid and avoided every
one; if I saw any one looking at me, I thought he was scoffing at me
because I was a hunchback. I kept away from other children, for if one of
them laughed, I fancied she was laughing at my deformed shoulders. If any
stranger was kind to me, I thought that it was because my hunch had not
yet been seen, and that as soon as it was, kindness would be changed for
contempt. I looked at the figure of every one I met; all were straight
except myself. I felt that I was the most miserable creature in the world,
and I saw no hope of ever being otherwise all my life long. Once one of
the school children died, and all her schoolmates walked in the funeral
procession to the church. I would not walk with them, but hid myself among
the grown people; for every one was looking at the children and I wanted
to escape observation. I heard one woman say to another: 'It is lucky the
child's mother has so much to do; she will have no time to think about her
sorrow, and she will get over it the sooner,' Then it came to me like a
ray of hope, that if I had work to do, I might forget my sorrow too. I
must have work. That very day I begged my mother to let me learn to work.
She was pleased, and sent me to take lessons in sewing, and I followed it
up till I could do all sorts of fine work, and had as much employment as I
could wish. I often heard people say, 'How finely Sabina is getting on!'
But how do you think it was with my spirits? Just as it is with yours now,
Veronica. Oh yes, you needn't look at me so with your great eyes. I know
exactly what you are thinking. You think that my trouble never can have
been equal to yours. People always think that their own sorrows are the
worst. I sat and sewed just as you do--early and late; my work was
perfect; I had no rival. I knew that it was good, and I rejoiced over it
in a half-hearted way; but what good did it do me after all? The thought
that I was a hunchback, was always in my mind. It was like a stream of
troubled water flowing through my heart; it spoiled everything. 'Always
deformed, never like other girls,' I neve