Lady Elton put her tender, motherly hand on his shoulder. 'No, dear,' she said sadly; 'I have watched; and Trixy, and the child, Aglaia, have been with her from morning till night. It is impossible!'
For an instant he stood silent. Every particle of colour had fled from his face, and his eyes had a strained, unnatural expression that alarmed her.
'I will watch with you to-night,' he said.
'If she will let you.'
'She shall not see me. I will keep out of her way, while she is awake. Mother, you must let me. It is my right, and,' he added in a choked voice, as he turned from her,'perhaps I know more about these visions than you do.'
Lady Elton went back sadly to her children. She found Aglaia curled up on the cushions at Grace's feet, reading the New Testament to her, and Trixy sitting beside them with swollen eyes.
With an unuttered prayer Lady Elton sat down and listened. It was one of the beautiful, mystical chapters of St. John. The child read it through, in her sweet tremulous voice, and then stopped.
'Grace is asleep,' she whispered.
They sat silent, watching her. Her face was almost transparent. The blue-veined eyelids, fringed with long silken lashes, lay against her cheeks. The breathing was soft and regular, like a child's. But she was not asleep, and presently she opened her eyes, and looked round on them.
'How good everyone is to me!' she murmured. 'What have I done that you should love me so?' Then in a lower tone, 'Mother, love is real.'