Her strength gave way, and she let her go.
"All declarations in my behalf are made to third persons," I thought.
"I do believe, Miss Veronica," said Fanny, who did not express any astonishment or resentment at the treatment she had received, "that you are going to be sick; I feel so in my bones."
"Never mind your bones. Twist up my hair, and think, while you do it, how to get rid of your diabolical curiosity."
"I have had nothing to do all my life," she answered, carefully knotting Verry's hair, "but to be curious. I never found out much, though, till lately"; and she cast her eyes in my direction.
"Put her out, Cassandra," said Verry, "if you like to touch her."
"I'll sweep the hearth, if you please, first," Fanny answered. "I am a good drudge, you know. Good-night, ladies."
I followed Veronica, wishing to know if her room was uncomfortable. She had made slight changes since my visit to her. The flowers had been moved, the stand where the candle stood was covered with crimson cloth. The dead bough and the autumn leaves were gone; but instead there was a branch of waving grasses, green and fresh, and on the table was a white flower, in a vase.
"It is freezing here, but it looks like summer. Is it design?"
"Yes; I can't sit here much; still, I can read in bed, and write, especially under my new quilt, which you have not seen."