Once in the road, she hurried homewards—passionately, vehemently—allowing herself no time for thought. A great blow had fallen upon her; but she crushed aside all recollections of Marian. Only to get back to the Hall, back to her beloved father, this was her one desire. Ah, if he were but still as he once had been, she would have taken her trouble to him, and half the burden would be gone. Now she might not venture to speak; now it must be borne alone, with no human helper.
Everything looked dark and hopeless to Joan, through that long way between Mrs. St. John’s and the Hall. She had never found any distance so great before. Would it ever come to an end? She grew so utterly weary that it became almost impossible to drag one foot before the other. When home was at last in sight, the garden appeared interminable; and when Joan reached the Hall, she stood within the front door, leaning on the balustrade at the foot of the staircase, unable to ascend.
“Joan, is anything wrong?” asked Dulcibel, coming up. “Why—Joan!”
Joan burst into tears. “I am so dreadfully tired, mother.” She spoke the last words with an unwonted tenderness. Who could tell how much longer Dulcibel Rutherford would be “mother” to Joan?
“Tired! You poor child, I should think you were!” said Dulcibel. “Come upstairs to your own room and rest. What made you go so far?”
Joan attempted no explanation, and obeyed with difficulty, dragging herself from step to step, with that same feeling of leaden-weighted hopelessness. Once in the room, she dropped down, not on the bed but on the floor.
“Please let me—please let me lie still, mother dear!” she pleaded, in answer to Dulcibel’s alarmed remonstrance. “I’m not faint—only so very, very tired. Nothing rests like the floor. Please!”
Dulcibel submitted wonderingly. She brought a pillow for Joan’s head, and threw a shawl over her; then stood looking down at the pale cheeks and dark brows.
“I can’t think what is the matter, Joan,” she said. “I hope you are not going to be ill.”
“Oh no!” Joan said, with a long breath. “I shall be rested soon. Please kiss me, mother—one kiss, and then I’ll be alone. Don’t tell father.”