'No, dear—nothing—I am quite well now—go on.'
But she did not go on immediately, for Rachel was trembling in a kind of shivering fit, which did not pass away till after poor Dolly, who had no other stimulant at command, made her drink a cup of very hot milk.
'Thank you, darling. You are too good to me, Dolly. Oh! Dolly, you are too good to me.'
Rachel's eyes were looking into hers with a careworn, entreating gaze, and her cold hand was pressed on the back of Dolly's.
Nearly ten minutes passed before the talk was renewed.
'Well, now, what do you think—that good man, Mr. Larkin, just as things were at the worst, found a way to make everything—oh, blessed mercy!—the hand of Heaven, my dear—quite right again—and we'll be so happy. Like a bird I could sing, and fly almost—a foolish old thing—ha! ha! ha!—such an old goose!' and she wiped her eyes again.
'Hush! is that Fairy? Oh, no, it is only Anne singing. Little man has not been well yesterday and to-day. He won't eat, and looks pale, but he slept very well, my darling man; and Doctor Buddle—I met him this morning—so kindly took him into his room, and examined him, and says it may be nothing at all, please Heaven,' and she sighed, smiling still.
'Dear little Fairy—where is he?' asked Rachel, her sad eyes looking toward the door.
'In the study with his Wapsie. Mrs. Woolaston, she is such a kind soul, lent him such a beautiful old picture book—"Woodward's Eccentricities" it is called—and he's quite happy—little Fairy, on his little stool at the window.'
'No headache or fever?' asked Miss Lake cheerfully, though, she knew not why, there seemed something ominous in this little ailment.