Sophia Jane posts a Letter, and Susan pays a Visit.
Susan remained awake a long, long time that night listening with strained ears to the subdued noises in the house. She heard Dr Martin come and go away again, his boots creaking softly on each stair; she heard Aunt Hannah’s voice, mysterious and low, wishing him good-night, and after that the shutting of the door. Then a great stillness seemed to fall over everything, and she went to sleep at last.
When she next opened her eyes the darkness was over—here was bright daylight again, and Buskin drawing up her blind. The first words she heard were like part of a dream:
“She’s had a beautiful sleep, and the fever’s taken a turn.”
Susan rubbed her eyes to be quite sure she was awake, and that the good news was true.
“The doctor’s been already this morning,” continued Buskin, coming up to the bedside, “and he says she’ll do now with care.”
Susan had a hundred questions to ask, and her joy and relief were so great that she wanted to pour it all out at once. But this morning Buskin was “herself again,” her soft expression was gone; she was cold and stiff as usual, and would scarcely say more than “yes” and “no” to these eager inquiries. “I shall hear all about it,” said Susan to herself, “at breakfast-time;” and she dressed as quickly as she could and went down-stairs.
She was right, for no one mentioned any other subject throughout the meal. Sophia Jane had been neither liked or valued while she was strong and well, but her illness seemed to have drawn all hearts towards her. And yet she was the same Sophia Jane!
“I never could have believed,” said Aunt Hannah with tears in her eyes, as she put down her tea-cup, “that I should have grown so fond of that child!”
“Poor little darling!” said Nanna.