Mrs. Abercarne had thought it wiser not to look at her daughter while she said this, so she did not see the cloud which darkened on the girl’s face at the mention of the name.
When Chris next spoke, however, there was a difference in her tone.
“Mother, I want to speak to Stelfox.”
Mrs. Abercarne flushed again, and frowned slightly with perplexity. She wished her daughter would not make such awkward requests. After a moment’s hesitation she asked:
“Why, my dear? What have you got to say to him? I am quite sure,” she went on, hurriedly, “that the doctor would not allow you to see anybody just yet.”
Chris turned slowly and looked at her mother.
“Has he been sent away?” she asked abruptly.
“Well, my dear, I don’t know whether he has been sent away for good or not, but he is certainly away at present.”
The girl’s face fell again, and her mother in vain tried to rouse her from the depression into which she had sunk.
The hopelessness which had fallen upon the girl like a pall retarded her convalescence. She took no interest in anything; the only way in which her mother could rouse any emotion in her was by an allusion to Mr. Bradfield; and then the feeling shown by the girl was one of the utmost abhorrence.