The next day she seemed not at all better, but very poorly and feverish. Whilst Ella was dressing for dinner Maria came to her room, asking to be excused from dining: she felt hardly well enough to go down, especially as they should not be alone.
Only Mr. Daventry would be there. Ella had met him that morning and invited him to come: she was uneasy about many things, and wanted to talk to him. "You shall lie down here, Maria," said she, pushing her dressing-room sofa close to the fire, "and have some tea sent up. Adèle shall get it for you."
Maria lay down on the sofa, wrapping a shawl about her head, and drank the tea. After that, she fell asleep. Ella was glad to hear it, as it left her evening free for Mr. Daventry.
The old lawyer took his departure at nine o'clock. For a few minutes Ella sat over the fire, musing on the advice he had given her--to be still for the present; not to take action on any point. From this reverie she was aroused by the sharp and sudden opening of the door. Maria Kettle stood there, staggering in, rather than walking, her face white, her eyes full of terror.
"Oh, Ella!" she gasped.
Ella sprang to her feet, her pulses quivering. "You are worse, Maria!" she cried, "sit down here."
"No, it is not that--not that," moaned Maria, sinking back in the large arm-chair, but recently vacated by Mr. Daventry. "I have seen Katherine Keen."
"Katherine Keen!" breathed Ella, her lips suddenly becoming dry. "Impossible!"
"I should have said the same myself ten minutes ago," returned the sick girl, as she strove for composure. "But when I tell you, Ella, that I have seen her, and that I am in possession of my senses, I think you must believe me."
Ella Winter shivered, as though a cold wind were passing over her. Kneeling down, she put her arm round Maria's waist. "Tell me about it," she whispered.