"Yes, it is safe now; don't you think so?" Sara continued, musingly.
Her step-mother raised her eyes. There was a flash in them. "I bore it because I had to. But it was the hardest thing of all to bear. You despise him, you know you do. You always have. You have been pitiless, suspicious, cruel."
"Not lately, mamma," said the girl. She put her arms round the little figure, and, with infinite pity, drew it towards her. Madam Carroll at first resisted; then the tense muscles relaxed, and she let her head rest against her daughter's breast. The lashes fell over her bright, dry eyes.
"You will never be able to keep it up," she murmured, after a moment, her eyes still closed.
"Yes, I shall, mamma."
"Never, never."
"I could do a great deal more for my dear father's sake," answered the girl, after a short hesitation.
Madam Carroll began to sob. "I have been a good wife to him, Sara," she murmured, appealingly, piteously.
"Indeed you have, mamma. You are all his happiness, all his life; he could not live without you. But you ought to rest; let me go with you up-stairs."
"I must go alone," answered Madam Carroll. She had repressed her sobs, but her breath still came and went unevenly. "It is not that I am angry, Sara; do not think that. I was—but it has passed; I am quite reasonable now—as you see. But, for a little while, I must be alone, quite alone."