It was not till an hour later that Miss Worth stirred and woke to find a cheerful fire blazing on the hearth and Mildred beside it quietly knitting.
She put down her work hastily, rose and came forward as she perceived the governess's eyes fixed upon her in a sort of perplexed surprise.
"Excuse the intrusion," Mildred said; "but I thought you seemed ill, and was afraid you might need help. I hope your sleep has refreshed you, and that you will let me order the breakfast they are keeping hot for you in the kitchen."
"Thank you, I cannot understand such kindness to me," Miss Worth said huskily. "I was very tired—not sick, I think—and I suppose the sleep has done me good."
"And you will eat something?"
"I will try, since you are so good."
The effort was but indifferently successful, yet Miss Worth steadily refused to acknowledge herself on the sick list, and insisted that she was able to work and must do so; and Mildred went away, feeling troubled and anxious.
Left alone, Miss Worth took out her writing materials, then resting her elbows on the table, her face in her hands, sat thus for a long time without moving, a heavy sigh now and then escaping her.
At last she took up her pen and wrote rapidly for several minutes, then snatching up the paper, she tore it into fragments and threw them into the fire.
Another sheet shared the same fate, and seemingly giving it up in despair, she rose and walked the floor.