Amy read every day to Miss Tremlow, and thus whiled away many a weary hour that would have passed wearily for the invalid.
"You need not read to-day, my dear, you will tire yourself; so never mind where we were. I hope myself to be able to read soon."
"I shall not be in the least tired; I like reading. Shall I begin?"
Miss Tremlow fidgeted and moved restlessly among the cushions, and then said wearily—
"Do you know, my dear, I think it will be too much for me; I feel so tired with the exertion of getting up."
The book was instantly closed, Miss Tremlow feeling quite relieved when it was laid down.
"You are not vexed, Miss Neville, I hope. Your reading has been such a treat to me, when otherwise I should have been so dull and stupid."
"Indeed, no, it has been quite a pleasure to me; but you do look weary and tired. Shall I pour you out a glass of wine?"
"No, my dear, no; there is not the slightest occasion for it. And now let us talk of something else; you shall tell me all about the visitors, so that they may not be quite strangers to me when we meet."