Daisy offered to go to the Rectory for news, but Fulvia would not consent. "They may not have heard," she said, shuddering. "If Ethel is safe, it would be brutal to frighten Mrs. Elvey without need. And if—if the worst has happened, they will hear soon enough—too soon. Why should one be in a hurry to bring misery to people! It is hard enough to bear one's own wretchedness."
Suspense in her present mood found relief in speech. Fulvia talked incessantly, going over every detail of the day's adventures, enlarging with feverish admiration on Ethel's self-devotion. She did not shed tears, but she could not be silent or turn to another subject. Her limbs were aching, her face and head burning. Mrs. Browning listened uneasily, trying in vain to soothe her. Agreement or opposition alike made her worse. Anice was upstairs, keeping aloof, as usual, from uncomfortableness, and Daisy watched at the dining-room window, coming from time to time with the report, "No news and nobody,"—always to be ordered back by Fulvia to her post of observation.
"Nigel will be here directly. He must," Fulvia said on one of these occasions. "Let me know the moment you see him. No, I won't have you do anything. Only wait." Then she recurred to the grievous refrain: "If Ethel is drowned, I shall never forgive myself. It will have been all through me. I shall never look any one in the face again."
At last!—the sound of wheels! Daisy flew in. "Some one has come," she cried. "Cousin Jamie, and—I'm not sure, but I think I had a glimpse of Nigel."
Fulvia kept her seat, trembling violently. She did not grow pale, but the flush deepened, spreading to her brow. "Call them here—quick," she said. "If not, I will go out. Quick!"
Daisy obeyed to the best of her power.
Dr. Duncan came in first, looking as if the events of the last two hours had told upon him. Nigel followed,—not the Nigel who had left home after lunch, but white, worn, heavy-eyed, as he had been after his father's death.
Fulvia's wandering gaze concentrated itself on him, while he stood, resting one arm on the back of a chair, apparently not even seeing her.
"Then—Ethel is gone!" she said, gasping. "It was too late? And I—I—the cause!"
She turned her burning face away, and wrung her hands together, breaking into a wail of distress, like a child, and then she found Dr. Duncan's hand upon her arm.