have
despatched her in tragedy-fashion.

Meanwhile the latter had laid her arms along the low arms of the chair,
and now sat gazing from one to the other of her hands. In their way,
these hands of hers had acquired a kind of fame, which she had once
been vain of. They had been photographed; a sculptor had modelled them
for a statue of Antigone--long, slim and strong, with closely knit
fingers, and pale, deep-set nails: hands like those of an adoring
Virgin; hands which had an eloquent language all their own, but little
or no agility, and which were out of place on the keys of a piano.
Louise sat looking at them, and her face was so changed--the hollow
setting of the eyes reminded perpetually of the bones beneath; the
lines were hammered black below the eyes; nostrils and lips were
pinched and thinned--that Madeleine, secretly observing her, remarked
to herself that Louise looked at least ten years older than before. Her
youth, and, with it, such freshness as she had once had, were gone from
her.

"Here is your tea."

The girl drank it slowly, as if swallowing were an effort, while
Madeleine went round the room, touching and ordering, and opening a
window. This done, she looked at her watch.

"I will go now," she said, "and see if I can persuade Sister Martha to
come back. If you haven't mortally offended her, that is."

Louise started up from her chair, and put her cup, only half emptied,
on the table.

"Madeleine!--please--please, don't! I can't have her back again. I am
quite well now. There was nothing more she could do for me. I shall
sleep a thousand times better at night if she is not here. Oh, don't
bring her back again! Her voice cut like a knife, and her hands were so
hard."

She trembled with excitement, and was on the brink of tears.

"Hush!--don't excite yourself like that," said Madeleine, and tried to
soothe her. "There's no need for it. If you are really determined not
to have her, then she shall not come and that's the end of it. Not but
what I think it foolish of you all the same," she could not refrain
from adding. "You are still weak. However, if you prefer it, I'll do my
best to run up this evening to see that you have everything for the
night."

"I don't want you either."

Madeleine shrugged her shoulders, and her pity became tinged with
impatience.

"The doctor says you must go away somewhere, for a change," she said as
she beat up the pillows and smoothed out the crumpled sheets,