"
It was about one o'clock. Saying she would be able to lunch at her
aunt's house, Irene forthwith made ready, and drove to Campden Hill.
She was led into the drawing-room, and sat there, alone, for five
minutes; then Olga entered. The girls advanced to each other with a
natural gesture of distress.
"She's asleep, I'm glad to say," Olga whispered, as if still in a
sickroom. "I persuaded her to lie down. I don't think she has closed
her eyes the last two or three nights. Can you wait? Oh, do, if you
can! She does so want to see you."
"But why, dear? Of course I will wait; but why does she ask for
_me_?"
Olga related all that had come to pass, in her knowledge. Only by
ceaseless importunity had she constrained her mother to reveal the
cause of an anguish which could no longer be disguised. The avowal
had been made yesterday, not long before Dr. Derwent's coming to the
house.
"I wanted to tell you, but she had forbidden me to speak to anyone.
What's the use of trying to keep such a thing secret? If uncle had
not come, I should have telegraphed for him. Of course he made her
tell him, and it has put her at rest for a little; she fell asleep
as soon as she lay down. Her dread is that we shan't believe her.
She wants, I think, only to declare to you that she has done no
wrong."
"As if I could doubt her word!"
Irene tried to shape a question, but could not speak.
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