Recovering himself a little, he
continued in husky tones: "He died alone with his nurse: Virginia,
taking care of herself as usual, was in another room asleep."
"I wonder what they are talking about?" thought Mrs. Pinckney, twisting
her pretty neck in all directions so she could see them from her bed.
Their two heads were close together: he was speaking earnestly, and
Miss Featherstone's eyes were on the ground.
Mrs. Pinckney dressed and went down to dinner, although she had not
quite recovered the use of her voice. "Dick," she whispered, "it was a
fine move, your sending the children away this afternoon, so that you
could have Miss Featherstone all to yourself. Did you come to the
point?"
"No, but I will one of these days: I am preparing her mind," he added
mischievously.
As time went on a vague uneasiness seized the young governess. She
imagined Mrs. Pinckney was growing cool in her manner toward her:
certainly, Doctor Harris, who was constantly at the house, was becoming
importunate in his attentions. Once she looked up suddenly at as
prosaic a place as the dinner-table. Colonel Pinckney was gazing both
ardently and admiringly upon her. "Certainly I must be losing my senses
to imagine these men in love with me: it's preposterous.
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