out at all. Good-night.'
She gave me a haughty nod, and ran up-stairs with a quick light step.The old butler came to lock and bolt the hall-door as the clock struckten, according to unalterable custom; and I went back to my room,wondering what could have kept Mrs. Darrell out so long--whether shehad been upon some special errand, or had only been wandering about thegrounds in a purposeless way.
For some days Milly went on very well; then there came a little changefor the worse. The symptoms were not quite so favourable. Mr. Haleassured us that there was no reason for alarm, the recovery was only alittle retarded. He had not the least doubt that all would go well. Mr.Egerton was very quick to take fright, however, and insisted on Dr.Lomond, a famous provincial physician, being summoned immediately fromManchester.
The great man came, and his opinion coincided entirely with that of Mr.Hale. There was not the slightest cause for fear. Careful nursing andquiet were the two essential points. The patient's mind was to be madeas happy as possible. The physician made minute inquiries as to thearrangements for attendance in the sick-room, and suggested aprofessional nurse. But I pleaded so hard against this, assuring him ofmy capacity for doing much more than I had to do, that he gave way, andconsented to Milly being waited only by myself and her maid.
Mrs. Darrell was present during this conversation, and I was rathersurprised by her taking my side of the question with regard to thenursing, as it was her usual habit to oppose me upon all subjects.To-day she was singularly gracious.
Another week went by, and there was no change for the better, nor anyvery perceptible change for the worse. The patient was a little weaker,and suffered from a depression of mind, against which all my effortswere vain.
Angus Egerton came twice daily during this week, but he rarely saw Mrs.Darrell. I think he studiously avoided meeting her after that painfulscene in the drawing-room. It was for me he inquired, and he used tocome up-stairs to the corridor outside Milly's room, and stand theretalking to me in a low voice, and feeling a kind of satisfaction, Ibelieve, in being so near his darling.
Once I ventured to tell her that he was there, and to let him speak afew words for her to hear. But the sound of the voice she loved so wellhad such an agitating effect upon her, that I sorely repented myimprudence, and took good care not to repeat it.
So the days went by, in that slow dreary way in which time passes whenthose we love are ill; and it seemed, in the dead calm of thesick-room, as if all the business of life had come to a stand-still.
I did not see much of Mrs. Darrell during this period. She came toMilly's door two or three times a day to ask about her progress, withall appearance of affection and anxiety; but throughout the rest of theday she remained secluded in her own rooms. I noticed that she had awan haggard look at this time, like that of a person who had existedfor a long while without sleep; but this in no manner surprised me,after that scene in the drawing-room.
As the time went by, I felt that my strength was beginning to fail, andI sadly feared that we might have at last to employ the professionalaid which the Manchester physician had suggested. I had slept verylittle from the beginning of Milly's illness, being too anxious tosleep when I had the opportunity of doing so; and I now began to sufferfrom the effects of this prolonged sleeplessness. But I struggledresolutely against fatigue, determined to see my dear girl through thefever if possible; and I succeeded wonderfully, by the aid of unlimitedcups of strong tea, and always ably seconded by Susan Dodd, Milly'sdevoted maid.
Between us we two performed all the duties of the sick-room. Themedicines, wine, soups, jellies, and all things required for theinvalid were kept in the dressing-room, which communicated with thebedroom by one door, and had another door opening on to the corridor.
The sick-room, which was very large and airy, was by this means keptfree from all litter; and Susan and I took pleasure in making it lookbright and fresh. I used to fetch a bouquet from the garden everymorning for the little table by the bed. At the very commencement ofMilly's illness I had missed Peter, Mrs. Thatcher's grandson. I askedone of the men what had become of him, and was told that he had takenthe fever and was lying ill at his grandmother's cottage. I mentionedthis to Mrs. Darrell, and asked her permission to send him some wineand other little comforts, to which she assented.
The Manchester physician came a second time after a week's interval,and on this occasion he was not so positive in his opinion as to thecase. He did not consider that there was peril as yet, he said; but thepatient was weaker, and he was by no means satisfied. He prescribed achange of medicine, repeated his injunctions about care and quiet; andso departed, after requesting Mr. Hale to telegraph for him in theevent of any change for the worse.
I was a good deal depressed by his manner this time, and went back tomy dear girl's room with a heavier heart than I had known since herillness began.
It was my habit to take whatever sleep I could in the course of theafternoon, leaving Susan Dodd on guard, so as to be able to sit up allnight. Susan had begged very hard to share this night-watching, but Iinsisted upon her taking her usual rest, so as to be bright and freshin the day. I felt the night-work was the more important duty, andcould trust that to no one but myself.
Unfortunately it happened very often that I was quite unable to sleepwhen I went to my room in the afternoon to lie down. Half my time Iused to lie there wide awake thinking of my darling girl, and prayingfor her speedy recovery. On the afternoon that followed the Manchesterdoctor's second visit I went to my room as usual; but I was more thanever disinclined to sleep. For the first time since the fever began Ifelt a horrible dread that the end might be fatal; and I lay tossingrestlessly from side to side, meditating on every word and look of thephysician's, and trying to convince myself that there was no realground for my alarm.
I had been lying awake like this for more than an hour, when I heardthe door of Milly's dressing-room--which was close to my door--closedsoftly; and with a nervous quickness to take alarm I sprang up, andwent out into the corridor, thinking that Susan was coming to summonme. I found myself face to face, not with Susan Dodd, but with Mrs.Darrell.
She gave a little start at seeing me, and stood with her hand stillupon the handle of the dressing-room door, looking at me with thestrangest expression I ever saw in any human countenance. Alarm,defiance, hatred--what was it?
'I thought you were asleep,' she said.
'I have not been able to sleep this afternoon.'
'You are a bad person for a nurse, Miss Crofton, if you cannot sleep atwill. I am afraid you are nervous, too, by the way you darted out ofthe room just now.'
'I heard that door shut, and thought Susan was coming to call me.'
'I had just been in to see how the invalid was going on--that is all.'
She passed me, and went back to her own apartments, which were on theother side of the house. I felt that it was quite useless trying tosleep; so I returned to my room only to change my dressing-gown for mydress, and then went back to Milly. She had been sleeping very quietly,Susan told me.
'I suppose you told Mrs. Darrell that all was going on well when shecame to inquire just now?' I said.
'Mrs. Darrell hasn't been since you went to lie down, miss,' the girlanswered, looking surprised at my question.
'Why, Susan, you must surely forget. Mrs. Darrell was in thedressing-room scarcely ten minutes ago. I heard her coming out, andwent to see who was there. Didn't she come in here to inquire aboutMiss Darrell?'
'No, indeed, miss.'
'Then I suppose she must have peeped in at the door and seen that MissDarrell was asleep,' I said.
'I don't see how she could have opened that door without my hearingher, miss. It was shut fast, I know.'
It had been shut when I went in through the dressing-room. I waspuzzled by this incident, small as it was. I knew that Augusta Darrellhated her stepdaughter, and I could not bear to think of that secretenemy hovering about the sick-room. I was puzzled too by the look whichI had seen in her face--no common
look, and not easy to be understood.That she hated me, I had no doubt; but there had been fear as well asaversion in that look, and I could not imagine any possible reason forher fearing such an insignificant person as myself.
The rest of that evening and night passed without any event worthrecording. I kept the door of communication between the bedroom anddressing-room wide open all night, determined that Augusta Darrellshould not be in that room without my knowledge; but the night passed,and she never came near us.
When I went into the garden early the next morning to gather theflowers for Milly's room, I found Peter at work again. He looked verywhite and feeble, scarcely fit to be about just yet; but there he was,sweeping the fallen leaves into little heaps, ready for his barrow. Hecame to me while I was cutting the late roses for my bouquet, and askedafter Milly. When I had answered him he loitered by me for a little ina curious way, as if
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