“Put down the light,” said the girl, turning away her head; “it hurts my eyes.”
Oliver saw that she was very pale, and gently inquired if she were ill. The girl threw herself into a chair, with her back towards him, and wrung her hands; but made no reply.
“God forgive me!” she cried after a while, “I never thought of all this.”
“Has anything happened?” asked Oliver, “Can I help you? I will if I can; I will, indeed.”
She rocked herself to and fro, caught her throat, and, uttering a gurgling sound, struggled and gasped for breath.
“Nancy!” cried Oliver, greatly alarmed, “What is it?”
The girl beat her hands upon her knees, and her feet upon the ground, and, suddenly stopping, drew her shawl close round her, and shivered with cold.
Oliver stirred the fire. Drawing her chair close to it, she sat there for a little time without speaking, but at length she raised her head, and looked round.
“I don’t know what comes over me sometimes,” said the girl, affecting to busy herself in arranging her dress; “it’s this damp, dirty room, I think. Now, Nolly, dear, are you ready?”
“Am I to go with you?” asked Oliver.