“Yes, surely we must say that—if it is God’s will that your dear father should recover. We must pray for him,” Leo said, earnestly.
A tap at the door, and Nessie answered—“Come in.” Marian opened it and entered.
“If you please, sir,” she said, “I cannot manage any longer to pacify—”
Marian came to a dead pause, and stood as if suddenly turned to stone, her hands wrung together, her gray eyes fixed on that white girl face in the arm-chair. Joan seemed to dislike the scrutiny. Her drooping eyes opened widely for an instant, and the brows above drew into a frown.
“Who is that woman? Take her away!” she said distinctly, with a touch of pettishness. “I want to hear more about father. Don’t let anybody come in.”
Nessie went to Marian’s side, and asked—
“Shall I come to my mother? Does she want me?”
But Marian did not seem to hear—certainly did not heed. Leo began to think there was something about her uncomfortably peculiar.
“Marian, you must not leave Mrs. Rutherford alone,” he said.
Marian seemed to wake up with a start.