“Just gone out of the room,” answered Susan.
“Oh!” she added, “do tell me—is Sophia Jane worse?”
“I don’t know,” said Margaretta hurriedly. “I want aunt. She ought to see her; I think perhaps she would send for Dr Martin again.”
Dr Martin was sent for, and came, but he did not give much comfort.
“You can’t do anything,” he said, “but try and keep up her strength. A great deal will depend on the next few hours.”
From her lonely corner Susan watched and waited all that wretched evening, and, not daring to ask questions, stayed there, chill with misery, until long past her usual bed-time. At last Buskin came to find her. Wonder of wonders! there were tears in Buskin’s eyes, and Susan was encouraged by this display of softness to stretch out her arms to her for comfort, and whisper, “Will she get better?”
“The Lord only knows, my dear,” answered Buskin gruffly; “we’re all in His hands.”