Читать книгу The Young Pilgrim: A Tale Illustrative of "The Pilgrim's Progress" онлайн

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His attention was soon attracted by Ann’s giving two or three heavy sighs, as if she were in pain; and looking up, he saw a frown of suffering on her face, as she bent down and touched her ankle with her hand.

“Have you hurt yourself, dear mother?” said he.

“Yes; I think that I sprained my ankle this morning. Dear me, how it has swelled!”

“I am so sorry!” cried Mark, instantly rising. “You should put up your foot, and not tire it by moving about. There,” said he, sitting down at her feet, “rest it on my knee, and I will rub it gently. Is it not more easy now?”

Ann only replied by a sigh, but she let him go on, and patiently he sat there, chafing her ankle with his thin, weary fingers. He could scarcely prevent himself from falling asleep.

“That is very comfortable,” said the woman at last; “certainly it’s more than any of the others would do for their mother; they never so much as asked me how I did. You’re worth all the three, Mark,” she added bitterly, “and little cause have you to show kindness to me. Just go to that cupboard—it hurts me to move—you’ll find there some bread and cheese left.”