“Bianca.”
“Help me out of bed!”
The flush had left his face, the brilliance had faded from his eyes; he looked just like a ghost. With a sort of terror Bianca helped him out of bed. This weird display of mute white will-power was unearthly.
When he was dressed in his woollen gown and seated before the fire, she gave him a cup of strong beef-tea, with brandy. He swallowed it with great avidity.
“I should like some more of that,” he said, and fell asleep.
While he was asleep Cecilia came, and the two sisters watched his slumber, and, watching it, felt nearer to each other than they had for many years. Before she went away Cecilia whispered—
“B. if he seems to want that little girl while he's like this, don't you think she ought to come?”
Bianca answered: “I don't know where she is.”
“I do.”
“Ah!” said Bianca; “of course!” And she turned her head away.