“Say the truth, Mr. Darrell, never since—this young lady came here! I’ve seen it from the first. She’s not much more than a child, but you think more of her than of every one else in the house.”
The young doctor blushed like a girl to the very roots of his hair. “I have no intention of answering any such accusation,” he said. “It is entirely uncalled for, and quite unjustifiable. I have done my duty to the utmost, if such a charge could ever be any one’s duty. My doubts have a very different foundation. But I don’t go so far as to sacrifice life to my engagements, and therefore I’m going to telegraph to Mrs. Asquith to beg her to come here at once, without an hour’s delay.”
“Then I’ll telegraph to Mrs. Rotherham,” said the housekeeper. “Oh, dear! she is so far away. How can you betray a poor lady that is so far away? I’ll send for the lawyer. It was he that brought this girl here, and he had better come and take her away. Yes, that’s it. Let’s make a compromise, Doctor. Send her away. To go home, of course, is the best thing for her. Change of air, and change of scene, and her own folks—that’s far, far better. I’ll run the chance of whatever she may say when she gets better. Let us send her away.”
Mr. Darrell turned and looked again at the motionless figure in the chair. His face softened into the deepest, tender pity. “If you think what she was when she came here,” he said, “all full of life and spirit, and to look at her now, like a withered flower! No. I can’t take the responsibility of sending her away. Her mother, or a physician, one or the other! I can’t have her life and her reason to answer for all alone. I am going to telegraph to Mrs. Asquith, now.”
The housekeeper stopped him, catching at his arm. “Do you know who Mrs. Asquith is?” she said.
“Mr. Tenby told me—a relation. Well, so much the better. I am sick of my share in it,” cried the young man. They had been standing talking at the window. Hetty had been moved to another room on the other side of the house, where nothing could remind her of the terrible incident which had changed her whole being, and which was lighted by a large recessed window. He left the housekeeper standing there, and went up to the girl, sitting motionless in her chair. “Is there anything you would like?” he said. “Can I get you anything? Shall I move you nearer the window? Do you think you would like to see any one? Shall I call Miss Hofland? Is there any one whom you would like me to call?” There was a faint hope in his mind that she would say “Mamma,” which she had cried so piteously at first. But Hetty said nothing save “Thank you,” with the faintest movement of her lips.
