She went at once into the bedroom occupied jointly by herself and her traveling companion. She found Rose in a wrapper, with her hair down, lying on the outside of her bed.
"Are you not well?" she inquired in a gentle tone.
"No, dear; I have a very severe neuralgic headache. It takes all my strength of mind and nerve to keep me from screaming under the pain," answered Rose, in a faint and faltering voice.
"I am very sorry."
"It struck me—in the church—with the suddenness of a bullet—shot through my brain."
"Indeed, I am very, very sorry. You should have told me. I would have come out with you."
"No, dear. I did not—wish to disturb—anybody. I slipped out noiselessly—while all were kneeling. No one heard me—no one saw me except the sexton—who opened—the swing doors—silently to let me pass."
"You should not have attempted to walk home alone in such a condition. It was not safe. But I am talking to you, when I should be aiding you," said Cora; and she went to her dressing case and took from it a certain family specific for neuralgic headaches which had been in great favor with her grandmother. This she poured into a glass, added a little water, and brought to the sufferer.
"Put it on the stand by the bed, dear. I will take it presently. Thank you very much, dear Cora. Now will you please close all the shutters and make the room as dark as a vault—and shut me up in it—I shall go to sleep—and wake up relieved. The pain goes as suddenly as it comes, dear," said Rose, still in a faint, faltering and hesitating voice.
Cora did all her bidding, put the tassel of the bell cord in her reach, and softly left the room.