“Is that really you?” she asked.
“I am here, my darling.”
“And you believe in me?”
“I do most absolutely.”
“God does, too, you know,” answered Annie—bringing out the words quickly, and turning her head to the other side. The fever had once more gained supremacy, and she rambled on unceasingly through the dreary night.
Now, however, when the passionate words broke out, “They believe me guilty,” Mrs Willis always managed to quiet her by saying, “I know you are innocent.”
The next day at noon those girls who had not gone home—for many had started by the morning train—were wandering aimlessly about the grounds. Mr Everard had gone to see Annie, and had promised to bring back the latest tidings about her.
Hester, holding little Nan’s hand—for she could scarcely bear to have her recovered treasure out of sight—had wandered away from the rest of her companions, and had seated herself with Nan under a large oak-tree which grew close to the entrance of the avenue. She had come here in order to be the very first to see Mr Everard on his return. Nan had climbed into Hester’s lap, and Hester had buried her aching head in little Nan’s bright curls, when she started suddenly to her feet and ran forward. Her quick ears had detected the sound of wheels.
How soon Mr Everard had returned; surely the news was bad! She flew to the gate, and held it open in order to avoid the short delay which the lodge-keeper might cause in coming to unfasten it. She flushed however, vividly, and felt half inclined to retreat into the shade, when she saw that the gentleman who was approaching was not Mr Everard, but a tall, handsome, and foreign-looking man, who drove a light dog-cart himself. The moment he saw Hester with little Nan clinging to her skirts he stopped short.
“Is this Lavender House, little girl?”