Sharpe
entered--she never moved nor looked up until the nurse set the tray
on the table, and stooping over her, gave her a gentle shake.
"Miss Dane," she said in her stolid tones, "please to get up. Here's
your supper."
And Mollie, with a low, wailing cry, raised her wan face and fixed her
blue eyes on the woman's face with a look of passionate reproach.
"Why don't you let me alone? Why don't you leave me to die? Oh, if I had
but the courage to die by my own hand!"
"Please to take your supper," was Mrs. Sharpe's practical answer to this
insane outburst. "Don't be foolish."
She lifted Mollie bodily up, led her over, seated her in her chair,
poured her out a cup of tea, and made her drink it, before that
half-distracted creature knew what she was about.
"Now take another," said sensible Mrs. Sharpe; "tea will do you a power
of good; and eat something; there's nothing like good, wholesome
victuals for curing people of notions."
Wearied out in body and mind, Mollie let herself be catered for in
submissive silence. She took to her new nurse as she had never taken
to any one else in this horrid house.
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