"I do not know what it is, Philippe," said that lady; "it seems to be
mental. The loss of her husband weighs upon her, poor lady. But this is
worse than ever, and she will lie for hours with her face turned to the
wall, and not even Antoinette can arouse her."
"I have always been able to comfort her before," said Antoinette, with a
catch in her voice.
I took little account of what was said after that, my only notion being
to think the problem out for myself, and alone. As I was going to my
room Nick stopped me.
"Come into the garden, Davy," he said.
"When I have had my siesta," I answered.
"When you have had your siesta!" he cried; "since when did you begin to
indulge in siestas?"
"To-day," I replied, and left him staring after me.
I reached my room, bolted the door, and lay down on my back to think.
Little was needed to convince me now that Mrs. Clive was Mrs. Temple, and
thus the lady's relapse when she heard that her son was in the house was
accounted for. Instead of forming a plan, my thoughts drifted from that
into pity for her, and my memory ran back many years to the text of good
Mr. Mason's sermon, "I have refined thee, but not with silver, I have
chosen thee in the furnace of affliction." What must Sarah Temple have
suffered since those days! I remembered her in her prime, in her beauty,
in her selfishness, in her cruelty to those whom she might have helped,
and I wondered the more at the change which must have come over the woman
that she had won the affections of this family, that she had gained the
untiring devotion of Mademoiselle Antoinette.
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