"Yes, she is not at all well, and her anxiety about your niece, who is a great friend of hers, seems to have upset her very much."
This information very much puzzled Catherine. "Susan is not the person to get overworked and ill," she reflected, "and still less the person to get anxious about a friend, and she's gone off without giving me any notice. There is some mystery in all this, but I will get to the bottom of it."
She entered the room and walked softly up to the side of the bed.
The room was darkened, but there was sufficient light to enable her to clearly distinguish the features of the sick girl.
Mary was lying there sleeping peacefully. She had been in this condition for some hours. It was the first natural and refreshing sleep that had come to her fevered brain since her attack. Nature was working her remedy in her own fashion.
Catherine stooped and looked intently at the quiet face. She saw that it was pinched and white and that a circle of dark purple surrounded the closed eyelids.
She also noticed how thin had become the arm on which the head was lying, the poor head off which all the beautiful hair had been shorn close.
But there was a happy smile on the half-parted lips of the sleeping girl, her dreams were sweet.
Catherine looked at her for several minutes without moving or speaking.