Before setting out on her return, she went up-stairs to see Mildred, and found her lying on a couch with Emmeline and Rose by her side. The glow of the painted glass in the bay-window somewhat disguised the sufferer's paleness.
No touch of pity agitated Teresa's breast as she gazed at her victim. On the contrary, she secretly exulted in the success of her direful attempt. Nevertheless, she inquired with well-feigned solicitude:
“How do you feel now, my love?”
“Somewhat better, I think, mamma,” replied Mildred.
“I am so glad to hear you say so!” remarked Mrs. Calverley. “I hoped to take you and Emmeline back with me to Ouselcroft, but that is quite out of the question now.”
“Quite, ma'am,” observed Rose. “I think Miss Calverley ought to have medical advice.”
“So do I,” rejoined Teresa. “Shall I send for Doctor Spencer, my love?”
“No, mamma,” replied Mildred. “If he comes, I shall be laid up for a week, as I know from sad experience. You recollect how tiresome he was during my last illness, and wouldn't let me stir. I won't have him now, unless I'm obliged.”
“Better let her have her own away,” whispered Emmeline, unconscious that she was playing into Mrs. Calverley's hands. “She wants to see a certain person on his arrival here.”
“Well, you mustn't blame me if any harm ensues,” rejoined Teresa. “I really think she ought to have immediate advice.”