"'I was very sick, too, Miss Mabel,' she went on; 'at one time I thought I should die, and never see her again, or the master; master James, I mean, or any one. Oh, it seemed as if heaven was cruel to me, as if everything I saw was cruel.'
"'That is absolutely wicked, Zillah,' I answered, almost harshly.
"'I know it. I am sorry now—but I could not help it. We cannot always put down wicked feelings. But you are sure that the mistress is better—getting well?'
"I was a little conscience-stricken by the thought that there had been slight Christian feeling in the admonition I had given her, and so found nothing to say, except that I was sure Mrs. Harrington was almost quite well.
"'Are we going to stay here long, Miss Mabel?' she asked, following me, 'now that she is so much better—quite well—did you say quite well, young mistress.'
"'I don't know—perhaps, since Mrs. Harrington seems so much benefited by the air. The doctor considers her almost cured—there is only the weakness to overcome now. You can see how the color has come back to her face, yourself, Zillah.'
"Zillah gave a little groan, and staggered back against the wall, pressing her hand on her heart. She was deathly white, and her face was convulsed with pain.
"'Are you sick?' I demanded, really frightened, 'What is the matter, Zillah?'
"'Nothing—nothing,' she gasped. 'Let me sit down a minute—only a pain. I'm not very strong yet, young mistress.'
"She sank on a lounge that stood in the corridor, and covered her face with her hand. We were near my room, so I ran in there and got a glass of water and carried it to her.