“But I have some business to transact with you, Ralph,” said the lady pleadingly.
“I cannot help it. Go away now. I cannot be disturbed.”
“Oh, very well, Ralph. I will come up again,” said Aunt Anne in an ill-used tone.
“Wait till I send for you,” said her brother sourly.
“It’s all that woman’s doing,” said Aunt Anne to herself, as she swept down the corridor. “Oh, if I could find some means of sending her away.”
“It seems as if it were my fate to make enemies here,” said Nurse Elisia to herself, as she stood waiting with a book in her hand. “It is time I left, and yet life seems to have been growing sweeter in this quiet country home.”
Her eyes were directed toward the window, by which a little bookcase had been placed; and, as she looked out on the beautiful garden, there was the faint dawn of a smile upon her lip, but it passed away directly, leaving the lips white and pinched, while a curiously haggard and strange look came into her face. She craned forward and gazed out intently; there was a cold dew upon her forehead, and the hand which took out her kerchief trembled violently.
She drew back from the window, but, as if compelled by some emotion she still gazed out. Ralph Elthorne did not notice the change in the nurse’s aspect, but illness had made his hearing keen, and he said sharply:
“Who is that coming up to the front?”
“Miss Elthorne, sir.”