How kind Annette had been to poor Janey during these last weeks! Janey had unaccountably and dumbly hung back at first, but Annette was not to be denied. Roger, with his elbow on his labour-sheet, saw that whatever her father might be, the least he could do would be to ride up to Riff at an early date and thank her.
It is only a step from Roger's cottage to the Dower House.
All was silent there. Janey and Harry had gone up to Hulver to sail his boat after tea, and the house was deserted. Tommy, the gardener's boy, the only person to whom Harry had confided his marriage, was clipping the edges of the newly-mown grass beneath Lady Louisa's window.
And Lady Louisa herself?
She lay motionless with fixed eyes, while the nurse, her daughter-in-law, read a novel near the open window.
She knew what had happened. She remembered everything. Her hearing and sight were as clear as ever. But she could make no sign of understanding or recognition. A low, guttural sound she could sometimes make, but not always, and the effort was so enormous that she could hardly induce herself to make it. At first she had talked unceasingly, unable to remember that the words which were so clear to herself had no sound for those bending over her, trying to understand what she wished. Janey and the doctor had encouraged her, had comforted her, had made countless experiments in order to establish means of communication with her, but without avail.
"Would you like me to read, mother? See, I am holding your hand. Press it ever so little, and I shall know you would like a little reading."
No faintest pressure.
"Don't trouble to answer, mother, but if you would like to see Roger for a few minutes, shut your eyes."