CHAPTER XXV.
“YOU ARE NOT TO TELL.”
Pauline was certainly better, although she was not what she was before. In body she was to all appearance quite well. She ate heartily, took long walks, and slept soundly at night; but she was dull. She seldom laughed; she took little interest in anything. As to the sea, she had a positive horror of it. When she went out for walks she invariably chose inland directions. She liked to walk briskly over the great moors which surround Easterhaze, and to sit there and think, though nobody knew what she was thinking about. Her face now and then looked pathetic, but on the whole it was indifferent. Miss Tredgold was much concerned. She made up her mind.
“The seaside is doing the child no good,” she thought. “I will take her straight back home. She is certainly not herself; she got a much greater shock than we knew of or had any idea of. When she gets home the sight of the other children and the old place will rouse her. She is not consumptive at the present moment. That is one thing to be thankful for. I shall take her to London for the winter. If going back to The Dales does not arouse her, she must go somewhere else, for roused she certainly must be.”
Miss Tredgold, having made up her mind, spoke to Verena.
“We are going home to-morrow, Verena,” she said.
“And a very good thing,” answered the young girl.
“Do you really think so?”
“I do, Aunt Sophy. Pauline has got all she can get out of the sea at present. She does not love the sea; she is afraid of it. She may be better when she is home.”