"You want change," repeated Fulvia. "Ethel, will you say 'yes' to a plan I have in my head?"
"I—don't know."
"I have Nigel's consent. To-morrow I am leaving home with Daisy. We go first to the seaside for a week—to poor uncle Arthur's favourite lodgings. After that we hope to spend some time in an old Scotch farm. The farmer's wife was once a maid in our house. She is an excellent creature and will take good care of us; and she has three or four comfortable rooms, which will be at our service. Dr. Duncan wants me to have change, and our going there has been planned for some days. Starting to-morrow for a week at Burrside first is a new notion. And I want you to come with us."
Ethel was silent, her eyes open and sad.
"It will not be any expense to you—if you don't mind my saying so. Perhaps you know that I have come into a little money lately, since my uncle's death. He left what he had between Nigel and me—part to each, I mean,—" rather hurriedly; "so you need not scruple."
"You are very good," faltered Ethel. "But I don't think I can go."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I think not."
"Why?"
Ethel made no answer. Her colour fluttered.