“There! Bless you, my darling!”
Raynal looked at Rose. She saw she must go, but she lingered, and sought her sister’s eye: it avoided her. At that Rose ran to the doctor, who was just going out of the door.
“Oh! doctor,” she whispered trembling, “don’t go beyond the door. I found her praying. My mind misgives me. She is going to tell him—or something worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am afraid to say all I dread. She could not be so calm if she meant to live. Be near! as I shall. She has a phial hid in her bosom.”
She left the old man trembling, and went back.
“Excuse me,” said she to Raynal, “I only came to ask Josephine if she wants anything.”
“No!—yes!—a glass of eau sucree.”
Rose mixed it for her. While doing this she noticed that Josephine shunned her eye, but Raynal gazed gently and with an air of pity on her.
She retired slowly into Josephine’s bedroom, but did not quite close the door.