"Miss Harford," he said, suddenly, "it makes me miserable to see Waveney."
"Ah!" she returned, quickly, "I was afraid you would say that. But the poor child is not herself. She is stunned with trouble. When we talk to her, she does not seem to hear what we say. Doreen spoke to her a little sharply, to-day," she went on. "She did it to rouse her; but, of course, I told her that it would be useless. When she had finished, Waveney merely looked at her, and then went out of the room. And Doreen was so afraid she had hurt her that she followed her to say something kind. Waveney seemed quite astonished. 'You have not hurt me, oh, no!' she said. 'It is I who am rude, for I did not hear half you said. When I try to listen, my head pains me, and I get confused. But I think nothing hurts me.'"
Everard sighed. "What are we to do with her?" he asked, in a despairing voice.
"Dear Mr. Ward," returned Althea, in her flute-like voice, "we can do nothing but love her, and pray for her. She and her dear Mollie, too, are in God's hands--not ours. Try to trust them both to Him." And then Everard looked gratefully in her face.
"She is a sweet woman," he said to himself, as he walked towards the station. "I wonder why she has never married?" But no suspicion of the truth entered his mind.
Moritz used to send Noel up to the Red House nearly every day. But he never came himself. He spent most of his time at Number Ten, Cleveland Terrace.
Everard took very kindly to his visits. Moritz turned up at all hours, with all sorts of excuses. He would send up messages to the nurses, and very often would waylay Nurse Helena in the road outside. Nurse Helena, who had a kindly, womanly nature, would smile a little sadly, as she walked on. "He does not know, poor man, that he has a rival," she said to herself. "There is a Monsieur Blackie. I have heard the name often. But, poor child, what does it matter?" And here Nurse Helena shook her comely head. For that day, dear, sweet Mollie was at her worst. And Moritz was like a man distracted.
That afternoon Thorold Chaytor came home unusually early. He was bringing his work with him. Joanna and Betty were spending the day with a friend at Richmond, and Tristram had promised to join them in the evening, so he would have the house to himself.