Lettie left the room, and Mrs. Chetwynd stared at Leslie. Leslie returned her gaze with one frank and sympathetic.
“I am so truly sorry for you,” she said in her soft voice. Her brown eyes gazed full into Mrs. Chetwynd’s agitated face. “And I know what illness means,” continued Leslie very softly, “for Llewellyn—I beg your pardon, I mean my dear brother—he was terribly ill once, almost at death’s door. Oh, yes, I know what my mother suffered, and what we all felt; but he got quite well again, as strong as ever. We had a bad time, but it was over soon. It will be just the same with Eileen, I feel convinced.”
“Oh, my dear child, if I could but believe it. I never felt in such a terrible state in my life, and I know the doctors are most anxious. I must go back; I cannot add another word. Good-by; thank you for coming. Your name is——”
“Gilroy,” said Leslie.
“Thank you, Miss Gilroy, for coming. Lettie will let you know how Eileen gets on.”
“I will call again to-morrow morning to inquire, if you will allow me,” said Leslie.
“Certainly, if you wish.”
The widow spoke in an indifferent tone. She opened the door, and Leslie was just going into the hall when Lettie rushed downstairs.
“Marjorie wants you, Leslie; you are to go straight up to her this minute.”
“Marjorie wishes to see Miss Gilroy?” interrupted Mrs. Chetwynd.