'An old illness—mostly the heart,' she said, with difficulty. 'But I think the lungs are wrong too.'
'Why did she come here—why did you let her?'
The roughness of his tone, the burning of his eyes made her draw back.
'It seemed the best thing to do,' she said, after a pause. 'Of course, it was only done because she wished it.'
'Her people disapproved strongly!'
'She would not consider that.'
'And here in this rough place—in this heat—how have you been able to look after her?' said the young man passionately.
'We have done what we could,' said the girl humbly. 'The Contessa Guerrini has been very kind. We constantly tried to persuade her to let us take her home; but she couldn't bring herself to move.'
'It was madness,' he said, between his teeth. 'And now—she looks as though she were going to die!'
He gave a groan of angry grief. Lucy turned aside, leaning her arm against the convent gateway, and her face upon it. The attitude was very touching; but Brooklyn only stared at her in a blind wrath. 'What did you ever come for?'—was his thought—'making mischief!—and robbing Eleanor of her due!—It was a bad bargain she wanted,—but she might have been allowed to have him in peace. What did you come meddling for?'