‘But I am very steady; and here is your glass, mamma.’
‘God forbid!’ she cried, ‘not you, not you.’ This last strange incident seemed to take from her the last excuse for delay, and hurried on her fate. She paused a moment, with her hands clasped close upon the little phial, and looked upward, her face inspired and shining with a wonderful solemnity. Then slowly she unclasped her fingers, sighed, and put it to her lips. It was not the right way to take medicine, poor little Cara thought, whose mind was all in a confusion, not knowing what to think. But the moment the deed was done, that solemn look which frightened Cara passed away from her mother’s face. ‘Ah!’ she cried, fretfully, wiping her lips with her handkerchief, ‘how nasty, how nasty it is! Give me a piece of sugar, a bit of biscuit, anything to put the taste away.’
Cara brought the biscuit, pleased to be of use. She picked up the bottle which had dropped out of her mother’s hand, and put it back tidily in the case. She smoothed the disordered pillow. Mamma had been vexed because papa would not tell her something, would not let her know the truth, which was precisely what Cara herself objected to in him; but perhaps papa might have reason on his side too, for she was not strong enough to be agitated. And no doubt he would come back presently and make amends. In the meantime it pleased Cara to be her mother’s sole attendant; she put everything tidy with great care, drawing the coverlet straight, and smoothing the bed. The medicine chest was too heavy for her to carry back to its proper place, but at least she put it exactly level upon the table, with the other things cosily arranged round it. Her mother, following her movements with drowsy eyes, smiled softly upon her. ‘Cara, come here,’ she said; ‘come and give me a kiss. You will be good, and take care of papa?’
‘Yes,’ said Cara, astonished. She was almost frightened by the kiss, so clinging and solemn, which her mother gave her, not on her cheek, but her mouth. Then Mrs. Beresford dropped back on the pillow, her eyes closing. Cara had finished her tidying. She thought the room looked more still than ever, and her patient more comfortable; and with a curious mixture of satisfaction and wonder she went back behind the curtain to nurse’s big chair. Then her mother called her again; her eyes altogether closed this time, her voice like one half asleep.
‘Cara, tell him I was not angry; tell him it is quite true—no pain, only floating, floating away.’
‘What are you saying, mamma?’
‘Floating, floating; he will know.’ Then she half opened the drowsy eyes again, with a smile in them. ‘Give me one kiss more, my Cara. I am going to sleep now.’
The child could not tell what made her heart beat so, and filled her with terror. She watched her mother for a moment, scarcely daring to draw her breath, and then rang the bell, with a confused desire to cry for help, though she could not have told why.