Up the wide staircase walked the little maid, lighting the way, followed by the doctor, Mr. Axtell, and Anna Percival.
Kate opened the door of a room just over the library, where we had been.
The doctor went in, quietly moving on toward the fireplace, in which burned a cheery wood-fire. In front of it, in one of those large comfort-giving, chintz-covered, cushioned chairs, sat Miss Axtell; but the comfort of the chair was nothing to her, for she sat leaning forward, with her chin resting upon the palm of her right hand, and her eyes were gone away, were burning into the heart of the amber flame that fled into darkness up the chimney. Hers was the style of face which one might expect to find under Dead-Sea waves, if diver could go down,--a face anxious to escape from Sodom, and held fast there, under heavy, heavy waters, yet still with its eyes turned toward Zoar.
Now a feverous heat flushed her face, white a moment before, when we came in; but she did not turn away her eyes,--they seemed fixed, out of her control. The doctor laid his hand upon her forehead. It broke the spell that bound her gaze. She spoke quite calmly. I almost smiled to think any one could imagine danger of brain-fever from that calm creature who said,--
"Please don't give me anything, Doctor Eaton; believe me, I shall do better without."
"And then we shall have you sick on our hands, Abraham and I. What should we do with you?"
"I'll try not to trouble you," she said,--"but I would rather you left me to myself to-night"; but even as she spoke, a quick convulsion of muscles about her face told of pain.
Doctor Eaton had not seen me, for I stood in the shadow of the bed behind him.
"Who will stay with your sister tonight?" he asked Mr. Axtell.
Mr. Axtell looked around at me, as if expecting that I would answer; and I presented myself for the office.