The old cedar-tree stood up in stately blackness against the sky, and the lights in the house glanced behind it. The servants looked rather surprised to see Ethel, as if she were not expected, and conducted her to the great drawing-room, which looked the more desolate and solitary, from the glare of lamplight, falling on the empty seats which Ethel had lately seen filled with a glad home party. She was looking round, thinking whether to venture up to Meta’s room, and there summon Bellairs, when Meta came gliding in, and threw her arms round her. Ethel could not speak, but Meta’s voice was more cheerful than she had expected. “How kind of you, dear Ethel!”
“Papa sent for me,” said Ethel.
“He is so kind! Can Margaret spare you?”
“Oh, yes; but you must leave me. You must want to be with him.”
“He never lets me come in when he has these attacks,” said Meta. “If he only would! But will you come up to my room? That is nearer.”
“Is papa with him?”
“Yes.”
Meta wound her arms round Ethel, and led her up to her sitting-room, where a book lay on the table. She said that her father had seemed weary and torpid, and had sat still until almost their late dinner-hour, when he seemed to bethink himself of dressing, and had risen. She thought he walked weakly, and rather tottering, and had run to make him lean on her, which he did, as far as his own room door. There he had kissed her, and thanked her, and murmured a word like blessing. She had not, however, been alarmed, until his servant had come to tell her that he had another seizure.
Ethel asked whether she had seen Dr. May since he had been with her father. She had; but Ethel was surprised to find that she had not taken in the extent of his fears. She had become so far accustomed to these attacks, that, though anxious and distressed, she did not apprehend more than a few days’ weakness, and her chief longing was to be of use. She was speaking cheerfully of beginning her nursing to-morrow, and of her great desire that her papa would allow her to sit up with him, when there was a slow, reluctant movement of the lock of the door, and the two girls sprang to their feet, as Dr. May opened it; and Ethel read his countenance at once.
Not so Meta. “How is he? May I go to him?” cried she.