just on the other side of the wall

Sara did not know how unrelenting her quiet young voice sounded as she answered. If she had known, she would surely have tried to soften it for the Indian gentleman’s sake.

“The suffering was just as bad for my papa,” she said. “It killed him.”

“What was your father’s name?” the Indian gentleman said. “Tell me.”

“His name was Ralph Crewe,” Sara answered, feeling startled. “Captain Crewe. He died in India.”

The haggard face contracted, and Ram Dass sprang to his master’s side.

“Carmichael,” the invalid gasped, “it is the child—the child!”

For a moment Sara thought he was going to die. Ram Dass poured out drops from a bottle, and held them to his lips. Sara stood near, trembling a little. She looked in a bewildered way at Mr. Carmichael.

“What child am I?” she faltered.

“He was your father’s friend,” Mr. Carmichael answered her. “Don’t be frightened. We have been looking for you for two years.”

Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth trembled. She spoke as if she were in a dream.

“And I was at Miss Minchin’s all the while,” she half whispered. “Just on the other side of the wall.”

Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess

One of my favouritest classics, about a imaginative girl who goes from riches to rags and back to riches again! Definitely worth a read!

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