She tried to turn her head to him, appealing. The Squire came forward.
"Everything is ready for Miss Fountain, dear—if she will be good enough to stay. Nurse will provide—and we will send over for any luggage in the morning."
At those words "Miss Fountain," a slight movement passed over the sister's face.
"Laura!" she said feebly.
"Yes, Augustina—I will stay. I won't leave you again."
"Your father did wish it, didn't he?"
The mention of her father so startled Laura that the tears rushed to her eyes, and she dropped her face for a moment on Mrs. Fountain's hand. When she lifted it she was no longer conscious that Helbeck stood behind his sister's chair, looking down upon them both.
"Yes—always, dear. Do you remember what a good nurse he was?—so much better than I?"
Her face shone through the tears that bedewed it. Already the emotion of her drive—the last battles with the wind—had for the moment restored the brilliancy of eye and cheek. Even Augustina's dim sight was held by her, and by the tumbled gold of her hair as it caught the candle-light.
But the name which had given Laura a thrill of joy had roused a disturbed and troubled echo in Mrs. Fountain.