"
And then she went on to say she had been a little out of sorts, and
very lazy, and she thought the north country air would brace her
nerves, and, if we would have her, she would like to go to us at once.
She arrived late one afternoon, and I did not see her until she came
down to the drawing-room dressed for dinner.
I had not thought anything of her illness, she made so light of it, and
I was therefore startled beyond measure when she appeared.
"Why, my dear!" I exclaimed, involuntarily, "what have they done to
you? You're a perfect wreck!"
"Well, so _I_ thought," she answered; "but I did not like to tell
you. I was afraid you might think I was trying to make much of myself--
wrecks are so interesting."
There was a large party staying in the house, and I had no opportunity
of speaking to her that evening; but the next morning she came into my
studio with a brave assumption of her old manner. I cannot tell how it
was that I knew in a moment she had broken down, but I did know it, and
I could only look at her. Perhaps something in my look showed her she
had betrayed herself, for all at once her false composure forsook her,
and she stretched out her hands to me with a piteous little gesture:
"What am I to do?" she said.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220