'But you are so unused to illness—it cannot be thought of for a moment,' ejaculated Richard in alarm.
'Women nurse by instinct. I should look at Mildred—she would soon teach me. Why do you all persist in treating me as though I were quite helpless? Papa is wrong; typhoid fever is not infectious, and if it were, what use am I to any one? My life is not of as much consequence as Mildred's.'
'There is always the risk of contagion, and—and—why will you always speak of yourself so recklessly, Miss Trelawny?' interposed Richard in a pained voice, 'when you know how precious your life is to us all;' but Ethel turned from him impatiently.
'Mildred, you will let me come?'
'No, Ethel, indeed I cannot, though I am very grateful to you for wishing it. Your father is your first consideration, and his wishes should be your law.'
'Papa is afraid of everything,' she pleaded; 'he will not let me go into the cottages where there is illness, and——'
'He is right to take care of his only child,' replied Mildred, calmly.
Richard seemed relieved.
'I knew you would say so, Aunt Milly; we are grateful—more grateful than I can say, dear Miss Trelawny; but I knew it ought not to be.'
'And you must not come here again without your father's permission,' continued Mildred, gently, and taking her hands; 'we have to remember sometimes that to obey is better than sacrifice, dear Ethel. I am grieved to disappoint your generous impulse,' as the girl turned silently away with the tears in her eyes.