"Ah!" cried nurse, who knew nothing either about Marat or Charlotte Corday; "what a perfectly awful thing to say, Miss Christian! You fair terrify me."
Christian made no answer. She raised her brows and looked with her intelligent, keen, overstrung little face at Rose.
"Will you spend the night?" she said suddenly. "I want to talk to you. Nurse, will you keep Rosy until the morning?"
"Miss Christian!"
"You can if you like, nursey. She shall sleep with me. She shall; she must."
"Miss, I couldn't hear of it."
"Very well, never mind about that. Just ask her to stay. She shall sleep in your bed, and I will have a chat with her by-and-by. You wouldn't like, nursey——"
"What, Miss Christian?"
"Suppose I wasn't to be with you always—I mean you wouldn't like to feel you had refused one of my last wishes. If you come to think of it, it is almost like a a dying wish; isn't it, nursey?"