“Maggie, did you notice that Priscilla was not at her lecture?”
“She was not. I met her rushing away, I think, to Kingsdene; she seemed put out about something.”
“Poor little thing; no wonder—those horrid girls!”
“Oh, Nancy, if there’s anything unpleasant, don’t tell me just now; my head aches so dreadfully, I could scarcely hear bad news.”
“You are working too hard, Maggie.”
“I am not; it is the only thing left to me.”
“Do you know that we are to have a rehearsal of The Princess to-night? If you are as ill as you look now, you can’t be present.”
“I will be present. Do you think I can’t force myself to do what is necessary?”
“Oh, I am well acquainted with the power of your will,” answered Nancy, with a laugh. “Well, good-bye dear, I am off; you may expect the carriage to arrive in half an hour.”
Meanwhile, Priscilla, still blind, deaf, and dumb with misery, ran, rather than walked, along the road which leads to Kingsdene. The day was lovely, with little faint wafts of spring in the air; the sky was pale blue and cloudless; there was a slight hoar frost on the grass. Priscilla chose to walk on it, rather than on the dusty road; it felt crisp under her tread.