“Well, Bessie,” he said, in his light, cheery way, “how is she?”
“Better, Mr Trethick,” said Bessie coldly; and the bright look passed from his face as he saw the girl’s distant manner.
“Has the doctor been?”
“Yes, Mr Trethick.”
“What does he say?”
“That she is to have perfect rest and quiet.”
“And your mother?”
“Better, sir. Will you speak to her?”
Geoffrey hesitated a moment, and then seeing that Bessie was misinterpreting his looks, he said sharply,—
“Yes, I will;” and following Bessie in, he found the invalid in her old place, airing and burning more things than usual, but there was such a reproachful, piteous look in her eyes, that he was quite taken aback.