“But Mrs. Benton!” The housekeeper leaned over her solicitously. “You’re so white, and it was some time before we could bring you around.”
“I’ve been under a terrific strain for some time, Mrs. Williams. This little spell doesn’t mean a thing otherwise than a sort of let-down. All I need is a couple of hours’ rest to set me right.”
“Very well, ma’am,” Mrs. Williams assented. “You’re the best judge, I suppose—although I think you’re a lot sicker than you imagine.”
“Dear, kind Mrs. Williams!” Marjorie smiled gratefully. “Just lower the shades and I’ll try to relax. Only the very moment Mr. Howard comes in, send him to me.”
“Yes, ma’am—just ring if you should need me.” She did as her mistress requested, and left the room, softly closing the door behind her.
Left to herself, the stricken woman buried her head in the pillow and gave free vent to her grief. Her frail body was shaken like a reed, as she went from one paroxysm of convulsive sobbing into another. One word rang in her ears like a death knell—Manslaughter! Manslaughter! She was totally unaware of the opening of the door, until Howard knelt impetuously beside her.
“How are you, mother?” he asked worriedly. “Mrs. Williams tells me you had a severe fainting spell.”
“Oh, my dear! My dear!” She gathered him in her arms, and held him as though she would never let him go again. “I’m—I’m perfectly well now!” With all her might she tried to force a smile through her tears. “But you, dear, are you nervous—or frightened?”
“Why no, mother dear.” (It sounded almost like bravado.) “As far as I’m concerned, I’m as calm as can be! It’s only about you that I’m nervous and worried.”
“Well, you won’t have to be.” She sat up and resolutely brushed the tears from her eyes. “I’ll show you from now on, dear, that I can be just as brave as you.”