"Has anything happened, Miss Carvel?" inquired Mrs. North, scrutinizing her features and noticing her paleness.
"No—yes, dear Mrs. North, something has happened. I want to see aunt Annie," answered Hermione. "Do let me go in!"
The nurse did not suppose that anything Hermione could say would rouse Madame Patoff from her habitual apathy. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded, and opened the door into the sitting-room. Hermione passed her in silence, and entered, closing the door behind her. Her aunt sat as usual in a deep chair near the fire, beneath the brilliant light, the rich folds of her sweeping gown gathered around her, her face pale and calm, holding a book upon her knee. She did not look up as the young girl came in, but an uneasy expression passed over her features. Hermione had never believed that Madame Patoff was mad, in spite of Professor Cutter's assurances to the contrary. On this occasion she resolved to speak as though her aunt were perfectly sane.
"Dear aunt Annie," she began, sitting down beside the deep chair, and laying her hand on Madame Patoff's apathetic fingers,—"dear aunt Annie, I have something to tell you, and I am sure you will listen to me."
"Yes," answered the lady, in her mechanical voice.
"Aunt Annie, Paul is still here. I love him, and we are going to be married."
"No," said Madame Patoff, in the same tone as before. Hermione's heart sank, for her aunt did not seem to understand in the least. But before she could speak again, a curious change seemed to come over the invalid's face. The features were drawn into an expression of pain, such as Hermione had never seen there before, the lip trembled hysterically, the blood rushed to her face, and Madame Patoff suddenly broke into a fit of violent weeping. The tears streamed down her cheeks, bursting between her fingers as she covered her eyes. She sobbed as though her heart would break, rocking herself backwards and forwards in her chair. Hermione was frightened, and rose to call Mrs. North; but to her extreme surprise her aunt put out her hand, all wet with tears, and held her back.
"No, no," she moaned; "let me cry."
For several minutes nothing was heard in the room but her passionate sobs. It seemed as though they would never stop, and again Hermione would have called the nurse, but again Madame Patoff prevented her.
"Aunt Annie,—dear aunt Annie!" said the young girl, trying to soothe her, and laying her hand upon the thick gray hair. "What is the matter? Can I do nothing? I cannot bear to see you cry like this!"