"I am—er—my eyes are not able to stand it. For years I have suffered with some obscure trouble in them. I can see, but I cannot stand any bright light. It hurts them beyond endurance. At home I must have the rooms darkened in this way. And when I go out, even my heavy veil is not sufficient. Behind it I must also wear smoked spectacles."
She said no more, but she did not need to. A little inarticulate murmur of sympathy rose from her listeners. And in the twilight of the room Marcia glanced quickly and guiltily into Janet's contrite face.
[CHAPTER XIII]
VIA WIRELESS
It was a week after the events of the last chapter. The girls had gone regularly every day to visit Cecily. It was Marcia who had finally mustered up courage to ask Miss Benedict if Cecily could not go into the garden and enjoy there some outdoor air and sunshine. Miss Benedict had hesitated at first, but at last she conceded that Cecily and the girls might sit in the garden if they would go out of the house by a small side door and remain on that side of the house.
They found that this door was on the opposite side of the house from Cecily's room: consequently, they had never seen it. And they soon discovered one reason, at least, why Miss Benedict wished them to remain exclusively on that side. It was screened both back and front by thick bushes and trees. And at the side, above the garden wall, rose the high blank side of a building, unrelieved by a single window. Here they were as absolutely screened from public view as if they were within the house. Here also was an old rustic bench and table, and they spent several happy mornings in the secluded spot, sewing, reading, and chatting.
Cecily seemed fairly to open out before their eyes, like a flower-bud expanding in warm, sunny atmosphere. Only at times now did she show any trace of the frightened repression of their earlier acquaintance. They seldom talked abut the mystery surrounding her, because they had discovered that any allusion to it only made her uneasy, unhappy, and rather silent. Moreover, further discussion of it was rather useless, as they seemed to have reached a point in its solution beyond which progress was hopeless.
So they talked gaily about themselves and their own affairs, sometimes of their former home in Northam, the pleasant New England village. Occasionally Cecily would reciprocate by allowing them glimpses of her life in the obscure little English town from which she had come. Only rarely did she allude to the circumstances of her present home, and though the girls secretly ached to know more about it, they were too tactful to ask any questions.