*****
That night when Grover came into the room to make the final arrangements, she found Mrs. Mynors there, in the act of saying good night to a limp and disconsolate daughter.
"I am running up to town on business by the 8:4 to-morrow, Grover," said she, turning round with that alarming sweetness which convinced the hearer that some demand upon her good-nature would be immediately made. "I wonder whether, while you are making Mrs. Gaunt's tea to-morrow morning, you would bring me a cup; these lodging-house people are so disagreeable about a little thing like that! Bring it at seven o'clock sharp, if you would be so kind."
"Very well, mum," replied Grover in her gruffest tones, which were very gruff indeed.
"Good-bye, my precious; rest well," murmured the lady, bending over the bed. "We shall cheer up when Gerald comes back, and if you are very good I will beg the doctor to let you get up on Thursday."
"If I feel well enough," sighed Virginia, closing her eyes.
Grover felt all her distrust reviving. She was certain that Virgie was feeling almost completely recovered. Was there anything up? Some plot? Had young Rosenberg planned for the mother to be away in town while he came down here and carried off Virginia in his car?
She turned from the closing of the door upon Mrs. Mynors' exit, with a very grim mouth. The patient was sitting bolt upright in bed, with an expression so changed, so alert, that she paused just where she stood, in amazement.
"Grover," panted the girl, in a shaken, excited voice, "come here; I want to speak to you."
Grover approached, slowly and doubtfully, suspicion written all over her. When she was quite near, Virginia drew her down so that she sat upon the bed, and put her arms round her, laying her head upon a singularly unresponsive bosom.