Ilse and Perry waded over through the storm on New Year's Eve. So did Dr. Burnley, and the folks from New Moon, and Little Elizabeth from town. There was not quite enough room for them all, but they were cozy around the hearth at Evensong. They sipped cups of mulled cider and watched the flames flicker as they exchanged hopes for the New Year.
It began to storm, and the wind and snow beat against the house. "The old year is peevish, and doesn't want to leave," said Ilse, peevishly herself. She had been in a poor humour all night. "For who knows what the new year will bring? I'd rather stick with this year--I've liked this year. It's been the best year of my life. This new year I know nothing about."
Around the clock she stood, white-faced and paced around the room once.
"Ilse?" Perry asked.
"Don't talk to me, you pestilent parasite," Ilse had snapped, and kept walking.
At one point she gave a little cry--"Oh!" Everyone in the room looked up, and Perry went to his wife and steadied her. This time Ilse did not snap at him. She looked too frightened. Which was frightening to the rest of them--they had never seen Ilse so pale.
Dr. Burnley said, "I suppose we should get her settled in the spare room upstairs."
"Of course," said Emily calmly, going up to make the bed.
"Oh, Emily, I'm sorry," Ilse said, trembling. Ilse--trembling! Could this frightened creature be Ilse? "Don't make up the bed nicely, I'll just muss it. Oh, Emily--I'm going to have a baby."
"We've noticed," Emily smiled. "We've known for quite some time now."
Ilse groaned again, and Dr. Burnley ordered everyone out.
Ilse caught Emily's hand on the way out.
"Don't go, darling," she begged. "What if--anything--happens?"
Dr. Burnley was adamant. All of them must leave except for Ilse, of course, and Perry. Emily kissed Ilse's cold little hand. "Nothing will happen to you, dearest," she said.
* * *
They slept fitfully all night. In the morning, Dr. Burnley woke Emily, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, by patting her gently on the shoulder.
"Is it over?" Emily asked.
"Yes," said Allan Burnley, his face haggard. "It's a little girl. They've named her Emily, after you."
"Oh!" Emily whispered joyously. "But Dr. Burnley, why aren't you happy? Your first grandchild! Oh, why don't you smile?"
"This child," said Dr. Burnley, swallowing hard, "Won't live. She'll be dead by sundown."
He walked sharply into the kitchen. Emily stood, stricken, and climbed the stairs to Ilse.
* * *
"Isn't she gorgeous?" Ilse whispered. "Emily Miller. It's a good name, Isn't it? Only if people don't call her Millie. Millie MillerLook at her rosebud mouth. And her fat, fat cheeks. Emily--do you want to hold her?"
"Yes," Emily said, and accepted the sleeping bundle. The baby did not look as if she was dying. Her skin was marble-white and her eyelashes fluttered in her sleep.
"Ilse," asked Emily. "Has your father said anything to you--about the baby--?"
Ilse hesitated, and played with the baby's blanket. She barked a short laugh.
"Father says something's wrong with her lungs." Ilse made this sound like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. As if he had said that this baby was born on the moon. "He's being over-cautious. There is nothing wrong with my baby. My little Emmy. Come here to Mama, sweetheart." She took the baby from Emily and nestled it back in her arms.
Emily saw it now--the baby had no color--she saw the little chest rise and fall with difficulty with each breath. She realized with horror that it must be true. Oh, God, poor Ilse. Poor Perry.
"There is nothing wrong," Ilse said again. Perry, who had remained silently standing, with red eyes, took a step forward then.
"Ilse--" he said softly, placing a hand on her arm.
"Don't," she said. "Don't. There is nothing wrong. Nothing at all. Is there, little Emmy? Is there, my wee little babe?"
* * *
Little Emily Miller died at sundown. She closed her eyes peacefully, and the labored breathing slowed--and then stopped. Her mother, father, grandfather, and namesake watched her go.
Ilse began to howl. It was a sound of pure anguish. Perry could not stop the tears that fell down his cheeks.
Emily went downstairs with a white face, leaving the little family alone with its grief. Aunt Elizabeth saw her eyes and knew what had come to pass.
"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," said she. "Blessed be the name of the Lord."
The only other sound they could hear was the wind whipping the trees, and Ilse's faint cries from upstairs.
"Poor Ilse, poor Perry," said Aunt Laura. "Their lives will never be the same again."