She glanced at Aunt Anne, who had ignored her presence entirely, and then she went slowly to the room set apart for her use, asking herself how all this would end, and whether it would not be wiser to leave the house at once, and end the painful position in which she stood.
“Well, Anne, dear,” said Mr Elthorne feebly. “You want to speak to me?”
“Yes, Ralph, I must speak to you now.”
“Speak gently, then, dear; I am much weaker. Not so well to-day.”
“And never will be well again, Ralph, with the house in this state,” cried Aunt Anne, ruffling up, and speaking excitedly.
“What, what do you mean?” he faltered; and it was like the shadow of his former self speaking. “What do I mean, Ralph? I mean that the place has not been the same since that dreadful woman came.”
“You are wrong, my dear, you are wrong,” he said querulously. “So good and attentive to me. I should have been dead before now if it had not been for her.”
“Oh, my dear brother, how can you be so blindly prejudiced! Can you not see the woman’s cunning and artfulness?”
“No, Anne, no. She has been very good and kind.”
“Yes; that is it, Ralph dear, playing a part. She has won those two foolish boys to think of her only, and insult poor Saxa and Dana; and now she has ended by winning over poor Isabel, who is in a state of rebellion. I have had a terrible scene with her. She actually takes this dreadful woman’s part.”