"Florence," she said, "why are you here?"
The woman dashed down the detaining hand. She knew that it was of no use to assume any longer the character with which she had hoped to impress the mind of the sensitive, nervous, delicate girl. She was no ghost indeed; she could figure no longer as a nightmare in Enid's memory. She stood revealed. But she did not lose her self possession. After a moment's pause, she spoke with dignity.
"I came here," she said, "to see whether you were sleeping quietly. Surely I may do so much for my husband's niece?"
"And what were you doing there?" said Enid, pointing to the mantelpiece. "Why were you tampering with what Mr. Ingledew sends me to take?"
"Tampering, you silly girl? You do not know the meaning of your own words!"
"Do I not? What have you in your hand?"
She grasped at the little phial which Flossy had half hidden in the white folds of her dressing-gown—grasped at it, and succeeded, by the quickness of her movement, in wrenching it from Mrs. Vane's hand. Then, even by the dim light of the candle, she could see that Flossy's color waned, and that her narrow eyes were distended with sudden fear.
"Why do you take that? Give it me back!"
"Yes," said Enid, upon whom the excitement had acted like a draught of wine, giving color to her face and decision to her tones—"yes, when I have found out what it contains."
"You little fool—you will not know when you look at it!"