“You are only waiting to leave me yourself. Yet your eldest sister, forsooth, must be kept here for you,—till then.” She added more gently, “Let me advise you to retire to your own room, and examine your heart fairly. You will find there is a strong dash of egoism in all this.”
“If I do”—
“You will retract your opposition.”
“My heart won’t let me; but I will despise myself, and be silent.”
And the young lady, who had dried her eyes the moment she was accused of selfishness, walked, head erect, from the room. Josephine cast a deprecating glance at her mother. “Yes, my angel!” said the latter, “I was harsh. But we are no longer of one mind, and I suppose never shall be again.”
“Oh, yes, we shall. Be patient! Mother—you shall not leave Beaurepaire.”
The baroness colored faintly at these four last words of her daughter, and hung her head.
Josephine saw that, and darted to her and covered her with kisses.
That day the doctor scolded them both. “You have put your mother into a high fever,” said he; “here’s a pulse; I do wish you would be more considerate.”
The commandant did not come to dinner as usual. The evening passed heavily; their hearts were full of uncertainty.