When he was tired of being read to, she talked to him in a manner that would have astonished the Disagreeable Man:  not of books, nor learning, but of people she had met and of Places she had seen; and there was fun in everything she said.  She knew London well, and she could tell him about the Jewish and the Chinese quarters, and about her adventures in company with a man who took her here, there, and everywhere.

She made him some tea, and she cheered the poor fellow as he had not been cheered for months.

“You’re just a little brick,” he said, when she was leaving.  Then once more he added eagerly: 

“And you’re not to be paid, are you?”

“Not a single sou!” she laughed.  “What a strange idea of yours!”

“You are not offended?” he said anxiously.  “But you can’t think what a difference it makes to me.  You are not offended?”

“Not in the least!” she answered.  “I know quite well how you mean it.  You want a little kindness with nothing at the back of it.  Now, good-bye!”

He called her when she was outside the door.

“I say, will you come again soon?”

“Yes, I will come to-morrow.”

“Do you know you’ve been a little brick.  I hope I haven’t tired you.  You are only a bit of a thing yourself.  But, by Jove, you know how to put a fellow in a good temper!”

When Mrs. Reffold went down to table-d’hote that night, she met Bernardine on the stairs, and stopped to speak with her.

“We’ve had a splendid afternoon,” she said; “and we’ve arranged to go again to-morrow at the same time.  Such a pity you don’t come!  Oh, by the way, thank you for going to see my husband.  I hope he did not tire you.  He is a little querulous, I think.  He so enjoyed your visit.  Poor fellow! it is sad to see him so ill, isn’t it?”

CHAPTER IX.

BERNARDINE PREACHES.

AFTER this, scarcely a day passed but Bernardine went to see Mr. Reffold.  The most inexperienced eye could have known that he was becoming rapidly worse.  Marie, the chambermaid, knew it, and spoke of it frequently to Bernardine.

“The poor lonely fellow!” she said, time after time.

Every one, except Mrs. Reffold, seemed to recognize that Mr. Reffold’s days were numbered.  Either she did not or would not understand.  She made no alteration in the disposal of her time:  sledging parties and skating picnics were the order of the day; she was thoroughly pleased with herself, and received the attentions of her admirers as a matter of course.  The Petershof climate had got into her head; and it is a well-known fact that this glorious air has the effect on some people of banishing from their minds all inconvenient notions of duty and devotion, and all memory of the special object of their sojourn in Petershof.  The coolness and calmness with which such people ignore their responsibilities, or allow strangers to assume them, would be an occasion for humour, if it were not an opportunity for indignation:  though indeed it would take a very exceptionally sober-minded spectator not to get some fun out of the blissful self-satisfaction and unconsciousness which characterize the most negligent of ‘caretakers.’