She rose to go, but Mrs. Reffold detained her.

Don’t go yet,’ she said.  “It is pleasant to have you.”

She was leaning back in an arm-chair playing with the fringe of an antimacassar.

“Oh, how tired I am of this horrid place!” she said suddenly.  “And I have had a most wearying afternoon.  Mr. Reffold seems to be more irritable every day.  It is very hard that I should have to bear it.”

Bernardine listened to her in astonishment.

“Yes,” she added, “I am quite worn out.  He never used to be so irritable.  It is all very tiresome.  It is quite telling on my health.”

She looked the picture of health.

Bernardine gasped; and Mrs. Reffold continued: 

“His grumbling this afternoon has been incessant; so much so that he himself was ashamed, and asked me to forgive him.  You heard him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I heard him,” Bernardine said.

“And of course I forgave him at once,” Mrs. Reffold said piously.  “Naturally one would do that, but the vexation remains all the same.”

“Can these things be!” thought Bernardine to herself

“He spoke in a most ridiculous way,” she went on:  “it certainly is not encouraging for me to spend another afternoon with him.  I shall go sledging to-morrow.”

“You generally do go sledging, don’t you?” Bernardine asked mildly.

Mrs. Reffold looked at her suspiciously.  She was never quite sure that Bernardine was not making fun of her.

“It is little enough pleasure I do have,” she added, as though in self-defence.  “And he seems to grudge me that too.”

“I don’t think he would grudge you anything,” Bernardine said, with some warmth.  “He loves you too much for that.  You don’t know how much pleasure you give him when you spare him a little of your time.  He told me how happy you made him this afternoon.  You could see for yourself that he was happy.  Mrs. Reffold, make him happy whilst you still have him.  Don’t you understand that he is passing away from you—­don’t you understand, or is it that you won’t?  We all see it, all except you!”

She stopped suddenly, surprised at her boldness.

Mrs. Reffold was still leaning back in the arm-chair, her hands clasped together above her beautiful head.  Her face was pale.  She did not speak.  Bernardine waited.  The silence was unbroken save by the merry cries of some children tobogganing in the Kurhaus garden.  The stillness grew oppressive, and Bernardine rose.  She knew from the effort which those few words had cost her, how far removed she was from her old former self.

“Good-bye, Mrs. Reffold,” she said nervously.

“Good-bye, Miss Holme,” was the only answer.

CHAPTER XIV.

CONCERNING THE CARETAKERS