Читать книгу On the Brink of a Chasm: A record of plot and passion онлайн

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As soon as Dick had gone Mrs. Pelham went softly up-stairs. She opened the door of the sick-room and stole in. The boy, excited and restless, heard her. He called to her to come to him.

“I can’t sleep, mother,” he said.

“Is he worse, nurse?” asked Mrs. Pelham.

“No, madam, nothing of the kind,” said the nurse. “Kindly leave us, madam, you are only exciting him.”

“Yes, you had better go away, you are only exciting me,” repeated Piers. “I want Dick to stay with me. You are too anxious. I hear it in your voice. Please go away, mother.”

Mrs. Pelham went very slowly out of the room. When the last echo of her steps had died away Nurse Ives locked the door. She then turned on the electric light.

“What are you doing now?” asked the sick child, raising himself on his elbow.

“I mean to send you to sleep.”

“Like you did last night?”

“Yes, like I did last night. Didn’t you like it?”

“I was a little—afraid,” said the boy very slowly. He looked anxiously round the room—“I wish—Dick were—here,” he said again, “or—or mother. I was very much afraid.” And now his eyes, luminous and troubled, were fixed upon the cold, inscrutable face of the red-haired nurse.