For an instant Cicely’s face expressed keen sympathy. Then her expression changed. “You did it, you know. You’ll have to pay for it!”
“Will you help me to get away?” Eve asked.—“I cannot see him again.”
“And do you imagine that by any chance he wishes to see you?” demanded Cicely, sarcastically.
“But he will have to come back here—he must; let me go away before he comes. We were leaving to-morrow in any case; help me off now,” Eve pleaded.
Cicely surveyed her with pitiless eyes; the once strong Eve now looked at her imploringly, her face despairing, her voice broken. Having had her satisfaction, the vindictive little creature turned, and, going back to the lodge, began to issue orders with imperative haste, as though she had but one wish in the world, namely, to help Eve; Mrs. Mile found herself working as she had never worked before; the Irishmen tumbled over each other; Porley and the cook constantly gallopaded—no other word could describe their gait. The judge worked fiercely; he helped in launching the canoes until the blood rushed to his head; he ran after the Irishmen; he carried Jack, he scolded Porley. And then, during one of these journeys, his strength failed so suddenly that he was obliged to sit down; as there was no bench near, he sat down on the ground.
Soon afterwards Mrs. Mile came by.
“Dear me! Do let me assist you,” she said sweetly.
“I am merely looking at the lake; it is charming this morning,” replied the judge, waving his hand.
“I could assist you so well,” said the nurse, coming nearer, “knowing, as I do, the exact position of all the muscles.”
“Muscles, madam? It’s more than I do! May I ask you to pass on?”