“Sometimes, Jael, I think that Barbara is a little mad. I am ready for you to dress my hair.”
Mrs. Jael spread the gown upon the bed.
“She doesn’t seem to have a spark of life in her, poor dear. I’m half scared often that she should do herself some harm.”
My lady was watching the woman’s face in the mirror.
“Oh—”
“She’s always moping by herself like a sick bird. It often makes me wonder, my lady—”
“Well?”
“What Mistress Barbara does all those hours when she is alone. I have tried looking—”
“Through the key-hole, Jael?”
“Your pardon, but it is my concern for the child. I’ve started awake at night thinking I heard her cry out, and I have dreamed of seeing her in her shroud.”