"
She quitted her own apartment and went into that of her charge. Mollie
was still asleep--sleeping like a babe, with lips apart, and cheeks
softly flushed, and loose, golden hair falling in burnished masses over
the pillow. Involuntarily Mrs. Sharpe paused.
"She looks like a picture," she thought. "No wonder he's crazy in love."
The sound of the opening door awoke the light sleeper. She rose up on
her elbow and stared around. The nurse advanced with a propitiatory
smile.
"Good-morning, miss," she said, cheerfully. "I hope you had a nice
sleep."
"Oh, is it you?" said Mollie. "I was dreaming I was back home with
guardy, and Sir Roger, and poor Hugh, and here I am still. Oh!" in a
voice of bitter anguish, "why did you awake me?"
"My poor dear," said the nurse, touched, "I didn't know, you know, or I
wouldn't. There! don't think about it now, but get up, like a good girl,
and wash and dress yourself, and have your breakfast comfortable. Things
won't be always like this, you know."
Mollie looked wistfully at her, but Mrs. Sharpe wasn't going to commit
herself, with no certainty but that listening ears were at the door.
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