All through the night she nursed her with unremitting care. And in the morning, when the fever waned, and the patient was wakeful, though exhausted, she left her only to bring the refreshing cup of tea and plate of toast prepared by her own hands.
But when she brought it to the bedside the pale invalid waved it away. She felt as if she could not eat. Fear had clutched her throat and would not relax its hold.
"I want to talk to you, Jacquelina," she said.
"Eat and drink first, Mimmy, and then you and I will have such another good talk!" said Jacquelina, coaxingly.
"I can't! Oh! I can't swallow a mouthful, I am choking now!"
"Oh! that is nothing but the hysterics, Mimmy! 'high strikes,' as Jenny calls them! I feel like I should have them myself sometimes! Come! cheer up, Mimmy! Your fever is off and your head is cool! Come, take this consoling cup of tea and bit of toast, and you will feel so much stronger and cheerfuler."
"Tea! Oh! everything I eat and drink in this unhappy house is bitter—the bitter cup and bitter bread of dependence!"
"Put more sugar into it, then, Mimmy, and sweeten it! Come! Things are not yet desperate! Cheer up!"
"What do you mean, my love? Have you consented to be married to Dr.
Grimshaw?"
"No! St. Mary! Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Jacquelina, shuddering for the first time.