Mrs. Jeckyl laughed a low, gurgling, malignant laugh.
“You give me credit for more than I claim,” said she. “I know nothing of your child. If she is sick, call in your physician, as I have already suggested.”
At this moment there was a sudden rustling of the window-curtain, and Adele came forward into the room, her eyes fixed steadily on the face of Mrs. Jeckyl, and her young lips compressed and resolute.
“You do know something of the child.” She spoke out boldly. “For you brought her to my mother’s house. Her present condition is the work of your hands, and you can restore her in a moment if you will.”
Mrs. Jeckyl’s countenance grew almost livid with rage; and she glared at Adele, as if seeking to blast her with her burning eyes. But the young girl stood without a quailing glance, and looked up steadily into her face.
“It is as I say, and you know it.” There was no sign of fear or embarrassment in the voice of the brave young girl.
“Then act quickly!” said Mr. Dainty.
“Oh, Mrs. Jeckyl, help us if you can! Break the spell that rests on our dear child!” Mrs. Dainty clasped her hands and spoke imploringly.
But the woman stirred not from the place where she stood.
“She can do it if she will.” It was Adele who spoke, and her voice was clear and confident.