"You shall stay," said Miss Russell. "My poor Grace, this may be the hardest and heaviest punishment I could give you. You shall stay, and see what your cruel and wilful carelessness has brought to pass. God help us and you!"
CHAPTER XVII.
WAITING.
In the dreadful days that followed, Grace Wolfe hardly left the sick girl's side. The doctor came, and pronounced the trouble a brain fever, brought on by fear and worry. A trained nurse came and took charge. Lobelia submitted to her care, but her one conscious instinct was that of clinging to Grace. Whether, as seemed most probable, she took her for Peggy, or whether she simply felt and craved the magnetism of the wild girl's touch and presence, they could not tell; but she was never quiet save when Grace's hand was resting on her. Her aunt came, her sole living relative; and seeing her, poor Lobelia was explained. Prim, fussy, and forbidding, her rich dress showing the same utter tastelessness that marked that of her niece, Miss Parkins was not the woman one would have chosen to be the mother of a girl like Lobelia. She looked at the sick girl, and said it was very unfortunate; she was always having illnesses, and had given them no end of anxiety.
"She has had everything that money could buy!" she said, over and over. "It has never seemed to make any difference; her mother was the same sort of person, unreasonable, always wanting what she couldn't have. My brother had a great deal of trouble with her, and Lobelia is like her. I have tried to do my duty by her. Do you think she will get well, doctor?"
"Yes, I do think she will get well!" replied Doctor Hendon, glaring at her in a way that made Miss Russell feel alarm for her safety. "I think she will get well if she stays here, and has care and tenderness and sympathetic treatment. You are her sister?" He turned upon Grace, who sat beside the bed, passing her light hand over the sick girl's forehead with smooth, regular strokes.
"No," said Miss Russell. "This is one of the pupils, Miss Wolfe. She—was in the room when this attack came on, and Lobelia has clung to her from the first in a singular manner. I did not dare to remove her, and so, as you see, she has simply stayed here, helping the nurse."
"I see!" said the doctor. "I suppose she was—hum! stay close by her!" this was to Grace. "You have a touch, I see. Probably you have been kind to her,—poor, forlorn, miserable little creature as ever I saw in my life!" The last words were hurried out as if they were one, in a gruff, not to say savage whisper.