"Oh no; nothing of the sort," said Laura, a little impatiently, for she had no clue to Caroline's previously over-wrought condition. "The doctor thinks the fall was owing to some sort of seizure."
Then they entered the house together, and as they crossed the hall Wilson came out from the sitting-room; but beyond a grave good morning to Caroline he said nothing, passing at once to the coat lobby to fetch his hat and coat.
Caroline hesitated a moment, not quite knowing what to do: then she went into the kitchen. Her meal was put ready on the table just as Miss Ethel had left it, and when Caroline saw the piece of meat and the cold tart and bread so neatly arranged for her by those hands so long unaccustomed to manual labour, she felt her lips begin to tremble. It was hard. Poor Miss Ethel! Poor Miss Ethel! If only she had remembered to empty that pail! If only—— And all at once she was seized by a passion of weeping which she could neither stop nor control. But it was not really for Miss Ethel—it was for that, terrible blow to her love and pride which came before.
Then Miss Panton came into the kitchen with a hot-water bottle; so Caroline sprang up, choking back her sobs. "Here, let me fill that, Miss Panton!" As she went to the fireplace where there was a kettle boiling, she added in a low voice: "How is Miss Ethel now?"
"The doctor says she is unconscious," answered Miss Panton, also speaking in the unnatural voice which people use at such a time. "It was a blessing the man happened to be laying sods where the privet hedge used to be, or I don't know what Mrs. Bradford would have done. She ran out to him, and he fetched the woman who lives in that new house over the hedge. It seems she was a trained nurse before she married."
"I hope Miss Ethel didn't know. She hated that house being built," said Caroline.
"I don't think she knew; but it wouldn't have mattered to her, poor dear," said Miss Panton. "I suppose that's why it is so dreadful to feel that nothing matters—it always has a taste of death." She spoke from the deeps of her own experience, wise with what she had lived through; but the next second she turned uncertain again and thrust forth one of her copy-book maxims. "Yes, yes. Decessity makes strange bed-fellows."
Caroline fastened the hot-water bag. "I'll run upstairs with this," she said. "Then I shall see if there is anything else I can do."
"I am afraid there is dothing anyone can do," said Miss Panton, for her catarrh had come back with her nervous self-consciousness.
Mrs. Bradford came slowly downstairs into the hall, her big face congested with weeping. "Oh, Caroline!" she said.