“No, miss; better, I think.”
Claude followed her into the passage on her way to her father’s room, but the woman arrested her.
“Miss Claude, may I say a word to you?”
“Yes, certainly. What is it?”
“I’ve been thinking this all over, my dear, and after giving it a fair trial, I want you to let me go again.”
“Now, Sarah—”
“Pray listen to me, miss. Master does not like me, for I make him think of poor Woodham; and I’m a bad nurse, and I feel sometimes as if I couldn’t bear it.”
“You are not a bad nurse,” said Claude, taking the woman’s hand; “but you feel it hard work to settle down again—that is all.”
“No, no, miss, it isn’t only that,” said the woman wildly. “But let me speak to you again, my dear; he wants you now.”
Claude nodded to her smilingly, and hurried into her father’s room, leaving the woman standing with knitted brow, and hands clasped.