At first such echoes as reached me of these prognostications made me merely angry. But I could not quite cast them aside. I began to wonder miserably if there were anything in this view. After all we, too—even Eric—had held it ourselves, only such a little while before!
I wrote to Aunt Josephine to say that if my mother were not better by Monday morning, I should bring Bettina as arranged; but I would stay only one night and go home the next day.
The question rose on Friday as to whether Madame Aurore should return to London on Saturday night, or some time on Sunday.
"Saturday night," said my mother with decision.
Bettina ventured to urge the Sunday alternative. "The poor little thing is so tired after sewing all day——"
To which my mother responded by ordering the cart for Saturday evening.
"I cannot sleep with that woman in the house."
Bettina ran in to say Madame Aurore was ready to say good-bye. To our embarrassment, our mother would not permit Madame Aurore to enter the room, even for the purpose of taking leave.
We went out and did what we could to soften the refusal. "She has not been sleeping...." "She is trying to rest...." "She is so much obliged to you...."
Ah, Madame Aurore understood. Our poor, poor mother was undoubtedly failing. We were adjured to take every care. Certainly we should not both leave the poor lady.