She felt as if she had been shot, and scarcely knew where she was for several moments. On coming out of church, she stood almost in a dream, while Emily and Jane were talking to the Rector, who told them how very ill the child was, and how little hope there was of her recovery. He took leave of them, and Lily walked home, scarcely hearing the soothing words with which Emily strove to comfort her. The meaning passed away mournfully; Lily sat over the fire without speaking, and without attempting to do anything. In the afternoon rain came on; but Lily, too unhappy not to be restless, put on her bonnet and cloak, and went out.
She walked quickly up the hill, and entered the field where the cottage stood. There she paused. She did not dare to knock at the cottage door; she could not bear to speak to Mrs. Eden; she dreaded the sight of Mrs. Grey or Kezia, and she gazed wistfully at the house, longing, yet fearing, to know what was passing within it. She wandered up and down the field, and at last was trying to make up her mind to return home, when she heard footsteps behind her, and turning, saw Mr. Devereux advancing along the path at the other end of the field.
‘Have you been to inquire for Agnes?’ said he.
‘I could not. I long to know, but I cannot bear to ask, I cannot venture in.’
‘Do you like to go in with me?’ said her cousin. ‘I do not think you will see anything dreadful.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lily, ‘I would give anything to know about her.’
‘How you tremble! but you need not be afraid.’
He knocked at the door, but there was no answer; he opened it, and going to the foot of the stairs, gently called Mrs. Eden, who came down calm and quiet as ever, though very pale.
‘How is she?’
‘No better, sir, thank you, light-headed still.’