The thorough drenching which I had received made me hoarse and really ill. In my anxiety, I had neglected to change my clothes; but the cold shudders that crept over me aroused my attention to the danger, and, changing my damp garments, I lay down, striving to get warm.
I have a vague recollection that the sun broke out, and came flashing through the leaves into my chamber. Then I heard voices in the garden beneath, which chilled me worse than the cold.
Mr. Lee and Mrs. Dennison were conversing together on the terrace, where camp-stools and garden-chairs were always standing. I could have heard everything; the temptation was great, but I put it away, burying my head in my pillow, and drowning their voices with my sobs.
Toward night Jessie came to my room. She was sad and disheartened; Mr. Lee had not spoken to her since our return; and even her mother was vexed that she should have exposed herself to the storm.
I inquired if Mr. Lawrence was at the house when her father returned. Jessie thought not, but could not say positively; only he seldom was there, except in her father's absence.
She said this abruptly, and turned the conversation; the very name of Lawrence seemed to distress her.
"Aunt Matty," she said, after a dreary silence, "will this widow never leave our house? Shall we remain in this state till it brings ruin on us all? Mother seems fading away, and no one appears to care. You look years older; and as for me—"
"Well, Jessie?"
"No matter about me; but something must be done. So long as it was myself only, I made an effort to bear it; but we are all changed, all unhappy—dear, sweet mamma, and even Lottie. There is poison in the very atmosphere, I think."
"Let us have patience, Jessie; this cannot last much longer; but while Mrs. Dennison remains here, do not forget that she is your mother's guest."