Oliver, who watched the old lady anxiously, observed that she was alarmed by these appearances, and so, in truth, was he; but seeing that she affected to make light of them, he endeavoured to do the same; and they so far succeeded, that when Rose was persuaded by her aunt to retire for the night, she was in better spirits, and appeared even in better health, and assured them that she felt certain she should wake in the morning quite well.
“I hope, ma’am,” said Oliver, when Mrs. Maylie returned, “that nothing serious is the matter? Miss Maylie doesn’t look well to-night, but——”
The old lady motioned him not to speak, and sitting herself down in a dark corner of the room, remained silent for some time. At length, she said, in a trembling voice,—
“I hope not, Oliver. I have been very happy with her for some years—too happy, perhaps, and it may be time that I should meet with some misfortune; but I hope it is not this.”
“What misfortune, ma’am?” inquired Oliver.
“The heavy blow,” said the old lady, almost inarticulately, “of losing the dear girl who has so long been my comfort and happiness.”
“Oh! God forbid!” exclaimed Oliver, hastily.
“Amen to that, my child!” said the old lady, wringing her hands.
“Surely there is no danger of anything so dreadful!” said Oliver. “Two hours ago she was quite well.”