"I'm afraid I shall be obliged to find one."
"Can I help you to-night? Do let me. I have only been home two days, and came in reply to your letter as soon as I could."
They went up to Zillah's room, and Cecily threw aside her out-of-door clothing. Then they silently entered the sick-chamber.
Madeline was greatly changed in the short time since Cecily had seen her. Ceaseless pain had worn away the last traces of her girlish beauty; the drawn features, the deadened eyes, offered hope that an end must come before long. She gave a look of recognition as the visitor approached her, but did not attempt to speak.
"Are you easier again, dear?" Zillah asked, bending over her.
"Yes."
"Mrs. Elgar would like to stay with you a little. She won't ask you to talk."
"Very well. Go and rest while she stays."
"Yes, go and lie down," urged Cecily. "Please do! I will call you at once if it is necessary."
Zillah was persuaded, and Cecily took her seat alone by the bedside. She had lost all thought of herself. The tremor which possessed her when she entered was subsiding; the unutterable mournfulness of this little room made everything external to it seem of small account. She knew not whether it was better to speak or remain mute, and when silence had lasted for a few minutes, she could not trust her voice to break it. But at length the motionless girl addressed her.