"No, sir; but I thank you most sincerely for the kind effort you have made to relieve me. I shall be better to-morrow. Good-bye till then."
"Stay, my child. Come into the studio, and let me read something light and pleasant to you."
"Not for the universe! The sight of a book would give me brain fever, I verily believe."
She tried unavailingly to shake off his hand.
"Why do you shrink from me, my pupil?"
"Because I am sick, weary; and you watch me so that I get restless and nervous. Do let me go! I want to sleep."
An impatient stamp emphasized the words, and, as he relaxed his clasp of her fingers, she hastened to her room, and locked the door to prevent all intrusion. Taking off her bonnet, she drew the heavy shawl closely around her shoulders and threw herself across the foot of the bed, burying her face in her hands, lest the bare walls should prove witnesses of her agony. Six hours later she lay there still with pale fingers pressed to burning, dry eyelids.
CHAPTER XII
A SACRIFICE