“I don't know, madam. My sister looks very ill, and keeps her own room. If she does not visit you, she holds equally aloof from us all. She has not taken a single meal with me for some days.”
“Since I was your patient and your guest.”
“Pray do not conclude from that—Who can interpret a woman?”
“Another woman. Enigmas to you, we are transparent to each other. Sir, will you grant me a favor? Will you persuade Miss Vizard to see me here alone—all alone? It will be a greater trial to me than to her, for I am weak. In this request I am not selfish. She can do nothing for me; but I can do a little for her, to pay the debt of gratitude I owe this hospitable house. May Heaven bless it, from the roof to the foundation stone!”
“I will speak to my sister, and she shall visit you—with the consent of your physician.”
“It is well,” said Ina Klosking, and beckoned her friends, one of whom, Miss Gale, proceeded to feel her pulse, with suspicious glances at Vizard. But she found the pulse calm, and said so.
Vizard took his leave and went straight to Zoe's room. She was not there. He was glad of that, for it gave him hopes she was going to respect his advice and give up her solitary life.
He went downstairs and on to the lawn to look for her. He could not see her anywhere.
At last, when he had given up looking for her, he found her in his study crouched in a corner.
She rose at sight of him and stood before him. “Harrington,” said she, in rather a commanding way, “Aunt Maitland is ill, and I wish to go to her.”