“Mamma wants you to come at once and see her alone. She has sent out the nurse.”
“How did you find her, Wynnette?”
“Oh, she is better. All right, I should think, except that she is very weak and as white as chalk. She cried when she read your note, papa. Why did she cry, papa? What was in your note?”
“She cried from nervousness, my dear. There was nothing in my note to distress her. I expressed the sympathy I felt, and asked her if she was able to see me,” replied the squire, truthfully, as far as the words went, yet evasively.
“Oh!” said Wynnette, and she was perfectly satisfied.
“I am going to see her now,” said the squire, as he passed out of his own little room and went to his wife’s chamber.
He opened the door and passed in. The window shutters were open, but the white shades were down and the lace curtains drawn, so that the chamber was filled with a soft, dim, white light, that showed the low French bed and the fair form upon it.
As Mr. Force approached his wife, she put up her hands and covered her face.
“Elfrida,” he said, in low and tender tones.
“Oh, how can I look you in the face?” she murmured.