The sleep she craved, however, did not come, for throughout the night she continued to move unceasingly.
“Your aunt didn’t so much as close her eyes,” announced Melvina to Lucy the next morning, while the two sat at breakfast. Nevertheless, although she advanced this information, with characteristic secretiveness she said nothing of the happenings of the previous evening.
Truly if “Whoso keepeth his mouth and his tongue keepeth his soul from troubles,” Melvina’s eternal serenity of spirit was assured.
CHAPTER XIV
A PIECE OF DIPLOMACY
When Lucy, radiant in her own happiness, entered her aunt’s room, she was surprised to find that all Ellen’s recent anger had apparently vanished, and that she had dropped into a lethargic mood from which it was difficult to rouse her. It was not so much that the elder woman was out of temper—that was to be expected—as that she seemed to be turning over in her mind some problem which was either unsolved or unpleasant, and which knitted her brow into a web of wrinkles, forcing her lips together with an ominous curl.
Lucy, who stood at the table arranging a vase of freshly gathered pansies, furtively studied the invalid’s sullen reverie.
“How are you feeling to-day, Aunt Ellen?” she at last inquired with courageous effort.