Ronald's appearance had indeed excited the stepmother, who remembered him angrily as Herrick's executor. She hated him because of the trust that had been shown him by her husband, the powers that had been given him in her rightful place.
"So that's the game!" she exclaimed. "That's what the shameless girl has been working for, is it? That's why she has turned my poor old mother's head and made her play the fool in her dotage!"
She choked in her wrath.
"Fancy her cunning in getting that meddlesome barbarian here. Who ever heard the like to her treachery? And he, not satisfied with stealing our money, now dares to steal our wives out of our houses."
She raved in her hatred of Nancy. Every grudge she could rake up from the past, every quarrel Nancy had had with Li-an, every childish offense went into a score which, if she had dared, she would have torn the girl limb from limb to erase. "That miserable promise!" she kept repeating, vexing herself half mad to find ways of breaking it.
The victim of her hatred stood profoundly quiet beside the bed of the dying woman. The latter had heaved a great sigh when she found herself at last with only Nancy watching her.
"I have done all I can," she said. "Your life is in your own hands now, my jewel. If I were only strong enough to take you away from here with my own arms—I am so afraid for you, I am still so afraid for you. But I can do no more. I am no good. I am too old."
These were the first despondent words Nancy had ever heard her proud old mistress use. She dared not weep, but sat down and put her hand on the sick woman's forehead, trying to cool the heat of the fever, to repay something of the debt of gentle caresses she owed.
"Sing to me," said the t'ai-t'ai at last.
Of all the songs she knew, Nancy could think of none but the song Kuei-lien had sung to her the night before her wedding. It had gone ringing through her head for days afterward and now, when she knew but would not confess her mistress was dying, nothing else could so contain her fear and her love.