“It isn’t trouble”—and the tears came to her eyes; “it is blessedness. I never had any one before to serve and wait on whom I loved; even my hands are sensible of the happiness of everything they do for you. It is new life. But now we have talked too much, and you must go to sleep.”
“Yes, my love,” and Aunt Anne put her head back on the pillow; “I will do as you desire, but you are very autocratic.”
“Of course.” Mrs. North laughed at hearing the familiar word, and then went to the dining-room for a little spell of quietness.
“Clarke,” she said to the maid who had been waiting there, “go in and watch by Mrs. Baines; she must not be left alone.”
Mrs. North sat down on the chair that Aunt Anne had pulled out for Alfred Wimple after her return from London.
“Oh, I wonder if it will come right?” she said to herself. “If it does—if it does—if it does! But I ought to have had a letter by this time; it is long enough since the telegram from Bombay. Something tells me that it will come right; I think that is the meaning of the happiness that has forced itself upon me lately. It is no use trying to be miserable any longer. Happiness seems to be coming near and nearer. I have a sense of forgiveness in my heart; surely I know what it means? Perhaps, as Aunt Anne says, all I have suffered has been an atonement for the wrong. One little letter, and I shall be content. The dear old lady shall never go away from me; she shall just be made as happy as possible.” She got up and went to the window, and leaned out towards the garden. “Those trees at the end,” she said to herself, “surely must hide the way down to the dip, where she listened. It is very lovely to-day”—and she looked up at the sky; “but I wish the doctor would come, I should feel more satisfied.” There was a footstep. “Yes, Clarke; is anything the matter? Why have you come? You look quite pale.”
“Mrs. Baines is going to die, ma’am; I am certain of it.”
“Going to die?” Mrs. North’s face turned white, and she went towards the door.
“I don’t mean this minute, ma’am; but just now she opened her eyes and looked round as if she didn’t see, and then she picked at her dress as dying people do at the sheet—it’s a sure sign. Besides, she is black round the mouth. I don’t believe she will live three days.”
Mrs. North clasped her hands, with fear.