"Where is papa?"
One night she did not seem so well. I was startled myself by the march of events—for Patience came to the drawing-room door, where Sir Roland and Miss Reinhart were sitting, and looked slightly confused, as she said:
"I have taken the liberty of coming to you, Sir Roland. You wished me always to tell you when my lady was not so well—she seems very depressed and lonely."
"I will go and sit with Lady Tayne," he said.
Then he glanced at the beautiful, brilliant face of Sara Reinhart.
"Laura, why are you not sitting with your mother to-night?"
And I dare not tell him that my jealous heart would not let me leave him alone with her.
I understood that night the art with which she managed him, and with it—child though I was—I had a feeling of contempt for the weak nature so easily managed.
He came back to her looking confused.
"We must defer our game at chess, Miss Reinhart," he said. "Lady Tayne is not so well; I am going to sit with her. Come on, Laura."