‘I will stay while you go,’ whispered Violet, though she longed to keep him, for that presence filled her with trembling, and promising speedy return, he departed.
For some minutes she could venture nothing, and the silence in which she heard only the beatings of her own heart seemed more than she could bear; but at last she collected herself, and an impulse suddenly occurring to her, she ventured to touch her mother-in-law, and said, ‘Theodora has been asking for you.’
Lady Martindale shook her head. ‘I cannot come, I cannot leave her.’
‘Poor Theodora is so much hurt!’ pleaded Violet; ‘you will be surprised to see how she is scorched! Such arms and hands, that she cannot help herself—and she wants cold applications continually.’
Lady Martindale once looked attentive, but a glance at her aunt brought back her face of silent misery. Violet was perplexed, but strove on—‘Poor Theodora! I hope you will come to her. She wants care very much. Did you know that it was in saving her that she was so sadly burnt?’
‘No: was it?’
‘Yes; she snatched her out through the burning curtains. That was the way Theodora’s hair was all burnt off, and her arms are so blistered!’ continued Violet, controlling her trembling, and speaking as when she was persuading one of the children—‘Poor Theodora! Will you not come and see her?’
‘Where is she?’
‘She is at the parsonage. They are ready to take us.’
‘Oh, no! I cannot go. You go to her.’