"Mother," cried Mildred, "if you have a grain of reason or self-control left, close your lips. Oh, what a mockery it all is!"
When Belle took her astonished eyes from Mildred's face, Roger, who stood near the door, was gone.
"You had better follow your daughter's advice, Mrs. Jocelyn," said the physician quietly and soothingly; "you are a little feverish, and I prescribe quiet. May I see you alone a moment or two, Mr. Jocelyn?"
"Yes, here in my room," added Mildred eagerly.
It was with the aspect of mingled fear and haughtiness that Mr. Jocelyn followed Dr. Benton into the apartment, and the door was closed.
"Mother, you are ill," said Mildred, kneeling beside her. "For my sake, for yours, pray keep quiet for a while."
"Ill! I never felt better in my life. It's all your unreasonable prejudice, Millie."
"I think so too," cried Belle indignantly. "We were just beginning to have a little sunshine, and you have spoiled everything."
"I am the only one who knows the truth, and I shall take the responsibility of directing our affairs for the next few hours," replied Mildred, rising, with a pale, impassive face. "Belle, my course has nothing to do with Roger Atwood. I exceedingly regret, however, that he has been present. Wait till you hear what Dr. Benton says;" and there was something so resolute and almost stern in her manner that even Mrs. Jocelyn, in her unnatural exaltation, yielded. Indeed, she was already becoming drowsy from the effects of the narcotic.
"You are not yourself, mamma. I'll explain all to-morrow," the young girl added soothingly.