"Both?" I questioned.
"Yes; I think so. Mother seemed pleased to have her in the room."
"And is she much there?" I questioned, faintly.
"Yes, very often, and for hours together."
"Alone?" I inquired, starting from my pillow and falling back from weakness.
"Seldom—never, I think. Father is generally with them, and Lottie—what a dear, faithful creature she is!—will never leave the room. If they drive her out, she is sure to retreat into her own little den and will leave the door ajar."
"Faithful, good Lottie!" I murmured.
Jessie kissed me and said, with mournful lovingness, that I must not talk, for I was all the friend she had to stand by her. She hesitated a moment and added, "Except, of course, my parents."
Obedient to her gentle command, I closed my eyes; but the anxieties that had taken flight in temporary insanity crowded back upon me, and my poor brain labored fearfully under them.
Was I right—knowing what I knew, and thinking what I thought—to keep anything back from Jessie? I had been so in the habit of mingling Mrs. Dennison's acts with those of Mr. Lee, that it seemed impossible to separate them, or speak of her without condemning him, at least by implication. I could not do this with his own child; for it was very doubtful if Jessie's entire and now very evident dislike of the woman had not sprung exclusively from the course she had taken with Lawrence. By word or look she had never given a sign of any other thought.