“Me!” saith Aunt Joyce, with a bitter little laugh. “Why, so far as I can make out, I am but one step fairer than Providence in her eyes. I gat not much flattery this even, I can tell you—no more than I had of Milly a month gone. Nay, Aubrey. He that would save a sinner against his will must not expect thanks from him.”
“Shall I go to her, Joyce?” saith Mother, and rose up.
“As thou wilt, Lettice,” saith Aunt Joyce. “Only, an’ thou so dost, look not for any fair words save out of thine own mouth. She is in the green chamber. I locked her in.”
“Hath she had to eat?” saith Mother.
“Ay; I saw to that ere I came below.”
Mother went forth of the chamber.
“May I see her, Aunt Joyce,” said I, “or must I not?”
“Better not at this present, Nell,” she made answer. “But—I am not sure that it were not well for Milly.”
When Mother came down again, she saith in a despairing voice, and spreading forth her hands—
“O Joyce, she is as hard as a stone!”