He looked at the nurse and said:
"Is that an angel or a human being? Alas, alas, I fear there is little hope. I shall get Dr. Duncan immediately, but let that little white angel do what she can."
Henrietta had been peeping about. Henrietta was speechless with rage. She set to work tearing her clothes and upsetting everything she could in Dinah's neat room.
Dinah, although the soul of gentleness, could be very firm when she liked. She deliberately got a strong cord and fastened Henrietta into a chair in such a position that, struggle as she might, she could not move.
She made the remark, after fastening her victim securely into the chair of punishment, "Thee art full of mischief, and thee wilt stay here until I choose to unfasten thee. Weep away, poor sinner; no one will hear thee in my room. Thou wouldst have killed thy sister had I not caught thee in time."
"But the enemy is with her—the enemy!" shrieked and sobbed Henrietta.
"Dost thou indeed call that most beautiful, spiritual young creature an enemy? Ah, well, the Lord God, He hears—the Lord God, He hearkens. I will pray for thee, Henrietta, while thou art in thy chair of punishment, and where thou art now, thou canst not smack me on the cheek. I promise faithfully, and where I promise I fulfil, that thou wilt stay in that chair until the Spirit tells me to untie thy cords."
"Hypocrite, horror," shrieked Henrietta; but Dinah was already on her knees, her dove-like eyes were closed, her lips were moving very slowly—not a sound could Henrietta catch.
She went on looking at Dinah and hurling every ugly word she could think of at that noble and patient head. The Quakeress went on praying. After a time there seemed to come over Henrietta a sort of awe. She even preferred Miss Pinchin and the rod to this. The silence was so intense. The position of the praying woman, in spite of the girl's own recklessness, was awe-inspiring.
At last, after quite an hour, Dinah rose from her knees, her eyes wet with tears.