“Miss Haredale is looking like her picture.”
Chapter Twenty One.
At the End of the Rainbow.
“Amethyst, Amethyst, I must talk to you. I can’t bear it by myself. Oh, that man, I hate and I loathe him, and my own self! But I can’t get him out of my eyes or my mind, his face blots everything else out. Oh, don’t make me come down to-night!”
This despairing outcry met Amethyst’s ears, as, late in the afternoon of the day after the soirée at the Art Gallery, she came into the little up-stairs sitting-room appropriated to her sisters and herself. Una was lying on a couch by the window. She raised herself, stretching out her hands, as if for help in dire distress, and Amethyst, putting down the flowers she was carrying, came and knelt down by her side.
“Now, Una, there’s a dear child, don’t begin to cry about it. Of course we both hate the sight of him. But he was sure to turn up some time, and you mustn’t put yourself into an agony about it.”
Una hid her face in the comforting arms, the very touch of which brought strength to her.
“I was afraid you might worry yourself,” continued Amethyst, “but I haven’t had a chance of looking after you before. If you stay away to-night, it will still have to be done some time. Take it as easy as you can.”