But her presence was an agony. I felt that it would be impossible to support even for a short time the ordeal of her ministrations; to listen to her low, sweet voice; to meet her clear, sad gaze; to suffer in silence the intolerable sense of loneliness born of her presence, of my being homeless in my own home, of the thought of my little ones, in a room above, taught to pray for a mother they could not remember and to give that holy name to another, even though she were my own sister.
‘You will sleep here to-night,’ said my sister, bending over me.
‘What is the time?’ I inquired, resolved to speak as little as possible.
‘It is nearly eight o’clock. You have been a long time unconscious. Barclay, cut a few light sandwiches and bring some port wine. Be quick. I am sure this poor lady wants nourishment first of all. Tell Sarah to light a fire in the spare room and prepare the bed.’
My sister then brought a chair to the table and seated herself.
‘This light, I fear, taxes your eyes,’ said she, and stretching forth her hand she dimmed the lamp.
Then followed a long silence; my sister did not appear to regard me. Her eyes seemed to steal to my face rather than look at it; but for the most part she kept her gaze bent downwards. Her behaviour suggested that she was struck, as all others whom I had met had been struck, with the contrast between my snow-white hair and white eyebrows and my youthful figure. Only at long intervals did I dare glance at her. I held my face averted and my handkerchief to my mouth, and twice I endeavoured to rise, fully meaning to leave the house if I found that I had strength to walk; but I was without strength as yet even to sit up.
The housemaid brought in some port wine and sandwiches, and I drank the wine which my sister put to my lips. I then ate the sandwiches merely with the hope that they would diminish the feeling of faintness and give me strength enough to leave the house.
I had eaten as much as my constricted throat would enable me to swallow, when suddenly I heard the noise of a key turned in a lock, then the hall door was shut and my sister went out. I caught the sound of my husband’s voice; but I should have known him by his tread alone as he stepped across the square hall, and thankful, indeed, was I that Mary had gone out to speak to him and detain him whilst she prepared him for seeing me—that is to say, for seeing a strange lady who had dropped in a fit near the house and been brought in; I was truly thankful, I say, for this delay, since it gave me time to fortify my mind for beholding my husband and being looked at by him, and perhaps spoken to by him; for had he come in upon me on a sudden, my white hair and changed face would have availed nothing: I must have betrayed myself, he would have detected me by signs I should have been unable to conceal.
He and Mary conversed for some time in the hall. The door was ajar and I heard their voices, but not what they said. He ejaculated, as though expressing surprise and sometimes remonstrance; her sweet, low voice had a pleading note. Presently the door was pushed open and the two of them entered.