The evidence was so extraordinarily confused. If he were
in danger of insanity, how was it that. Mr. Cathcart advised her to
get him down to a house with only two women and a few maids? Who was
there besides this old gentleman who ever dreamed that such a danger
was possible? How, if it was so obvious that she would see the change
for herself, was it that others--Mr. Morton, for example--had not seen
it too? More than ever the theory gained force in her mind that the
whole thing was grossly exaggerated by this old man, and that all that
was the matter with Laurie was a certain nervous strain.
Yet, for all that, as the afternoon closed in, she felt her nerves
tightening. She walked a little in the garden while the old lady took
her nap; she came in to read to her again from the vellum-bound little
book as the afternoon light began to fade. Then, after tea, she went
under orders to see for herself whether Laurie's room was as it should
be.
It struck her with an odd sense of strangeness as she went in; she
scarcely knew why; she told herself it was because of what she had
heard of him lately. But all was as it should be. There were spring
flowers on the table and mantelshelf, and a pleasant fire on the
hearth.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310