Her first act was to dismiss Jane Pool, the nurse.
"We keep servants, not spies and informers, at Catheron Royals," she said, imperiously. "Go to Mrs. Marsh—what is due you she will pay. You leave Catheron Royals without a character, and at once."
"I'm not afraid, my lady," Jane Pool retorted, with a toss of her head.
"People will know why I'm turned away, and I'll get plenty of places.
I knew I would lose my situation for telling the truth, but I'm not
the first that has suffered in a good cause."
Lady Helena had swept away, disdaining all reply. She ascended to Sir
Victor's room—the night-lamp burned low, mournful shadows filled it.
A trusty nurse sat patiently by the bedside.
"How is he now?" asked his aunt, bending above him.
"Much the same, your ladyship—in a sort of stupor all the time, tossing about, and muttering ceaselessly. I can't make out anything he says, except the name Ethel. He repeats that over and over in a way that breaks my heart to hear."
The name seemed to catch the dulled ear of the delirious man.
"Ethel," he said, wearily. "Yes—yes I must go and fetch Ethel home. I wish Inez would go away—her black eyes make one afraid—they follow me everywhere. Ethel—Ethel—Ethel!" He murmured the name dreamily, tenderly. Suddenly he half started up in bed and looked about him wildly. "What brings Juan Catheron's picture here? Ethel! come away from him. How dare you meet him here alone?" He grasped Lady Helena's wrist and looked at her with haggard, bloodshot eyes. "He was your lover once—how dare he come here? Oh, Ethel you won't leave me for him! I love you—I can't live without you—don't go. Oh, my Ethel! my Ethel! my Ethel!"
He fell back upon the bed with a sort of sobbing cry that brought the tears streaming from the eyes of the tender-hearted nurse.
"He goes on like that continual, my lady," she said, "and it's awful wearing. Always 'Ethel.' Ah, it's a dreadful thing?"