Soon he came hastily up, storming about the woman’s impertinence, and congratulating himself on having paid her wages and got rid of her.
John asked what was to be done next? and was diverted with his crestfallen looks, when asked what was to become of Violet.
However, when Sarah was consulted, she gravely replied, ‘She thought as how she could contrive till Mrs. Martindale was about again;’ and the corners of her mouth relaxed into a ghastly smile, as she replied, ‘Yes, sir,’ in answer to her master’s adjurations to keep the dismissal a secret from Mrs. Martindale.
‘Ay!’ said John, ‘I wish you joy of having to tell her what revolutions you have made.’
‘I’ll take care of that, if the women will only hold their tongues.’
They were as guarded as he could wish, seeing as plainly as he did, how fretting over her household matters prolonged her state of weakness. It was a tedious recovery, and she was not able even to receive a visit from John till the morning when the cough, always brought on by London air, obliged him reluctantly to depart.
He found her on the sofa, wrapped in shawls, her hair smoothed back under a cap; her shady, dark eyes still softer from languor, and the exquisite outline of her fair, pallid features looking as if it was cut out in ivory against the white pillows. She welcomed him with a pleased smile; but he started back, and flushed as if from pain, and his hand trembled as he pressed hers, then turned away and coughed.
‘Oh, I am sorry your cough is so bad,’ said she.
‘Nothing to signify,’ he replied, recovering. ‘Thank you for letting me come to see you. I hope you are not tired?’
‘Oh, no, thank you. Arthur carried me so nicely, and baby is so good this morning.’