‘Oh, yes, yes,’ replied the girl, in a petulant tone, as if she did not like the subject of her illness alluded to. ‘There is nothing the matter with me now, Lizzie. I could have returned home two days ago, if your father would have let me. I really think he is too particular.’
‘How can he be too particular where you are concerned,’ said Lizzie gravely, as she placed the trembling Quita on the sofa. ‘Mr Courtney confided you to his care, and trusted him to look after you as if you were his own child, and father has felt the charge to be a sacred one.’
‘He is very good,’ replied Maraquita, in a low voice; ‘but I have not been so very ill, Lizzie, after all, and I am all right again now. I hope nobody will make a fuss about it.’
Liz was silent, for she did not know what to reply. They had reached a point where confidence came to a full stop between them, and she could hardly have spoken without perverting the truth. So she tried to change the subject.
‘How soon do you expect Mr and Mrs Courtney to fetch you, Quita?’
‘I don’t know. I think the Doctor has walked up to the house to tell them I am ready. Mamma will be surprised to find you didn’t nurse me, Liz. Why didn’t you do so?’ inquired Quita nervously, as if she wanted to find out how much or how little of her secret had been confided to her foster-sister’s discretion.
But she had not fathomed the depths of Lizzie’s character. She had sworn not to reveal what she knew, and she would have been torn to pieces on the rack without confessing it. It was useless of Quita, or any other person, attempting to force it from her.
‘Why didn’t I nurse you, Quita? Not because I was unwilling; you may be sure of that. Simply my father said he did not wish me to do so, and that was enough for me. I have been trained to understand that the first duty of a medical assistant is implicit obedience. I have full faith in my father’s discretion, and know that he would not lay one restriction on me that was unnecessary. I can tell you no more than that. Only believe that it was not my own wish, and that if I might have nursed you I gladly would.’
‘It was best not, or you might have caught the fever. You know that I have had a touch of the fever?’ continued Quita interrogatively, but with downcast eyes.
Liz could not answer ‘Yes.’