She often worked late into the night, that she might devote more time to Emmie. The child flagged and grew weary towards evening, and then Queenie never left her. Long after all the inmates of Granite Lodge had fallen into a refreshing sleep the young governess would trim the shaded lamp, and pore patiently over the pile of copy-books waiting for correction. Even when her head was on the pillow she could not always rest. The future lay dark before her; she must find other work; but where? that was the question.
Emmie was gaining strength day by day; but for months, perhaps years, she would require the greatest care. The doctor's orders were stringent. She must not open a book for months; the brain would not bear the slightest pressure; she must lead a child's unthinking life—eat, drink, and play, and, above all, sleep.
Emmie took very kindly to this régime. She spent most of her time in sleep; during the remainder of her waking hours she would lie in languid content watching the antics of her kitten, or waiting for Queenie to come and talk to her.
Queenie made up her mind at last that she must speak to Miss Titheridge; and one evening she entered the little room where the governess sat casting up her accounts for the last month.
She looked up a little amazed at the interruption; but her manner changed when she saw Queenie, and became as usual slightly embarrassed.
"Do you want me, Miss Marriott? is there anything wrong with Emmie?"
"Nothing, thank you. I only wanted to speak to you about myself. I think it right that we should come to some sort of understanding about the future."
"About the future?"
"Yes, Miss Titheridge,"—Queenie was the more self-possessed of the two,—"it seems to me that we cannot go on like this much longer. Emmie's illness has been a great expense and trouble; and, as far as I see, she will not cease to be a trouble for a long time to come, and we have no right to burthen you."
"It is certainly very unfortunate," began the governess. "Dr. Prout is very kind about it; but still, as you say, it is a sad inconvenience; one of my best rooms too."