Kate left her to descend the stairs, and went to inform her sister.  Emma was not long in appearing; the hue of her face was troubled, for she had deceived herself with the belief that it was Richard who knocked at the door.  What more natural than for him to have come on Christmas Eve?  She approached Alice with a wistful look, not venturing to utter any question, only hoping that some good news might have been brought her.  Long watching in the sick room had given her own complexion the tint of ill-health; her eyelids were swollen and heavy; the brown hair upon her temples seemed to droop in languor.  You would have noticed that her tread was very soft, as if she still were moving in the room above.

‘How’s Jane?’ Alice began by asking.  She could not quite look the other in the face, and did not know how to begin her disclosure.

‘No better,’ Emma gave answer, shaking her head.  Her voice, too, was suppressed; it was weeks since she had spoken otherwise.

‘I am so sorry, Emma.  Are you in a hurry to go up again?’

‘No.  Kate will sit there a little.’

‘You look very poorly yourself.  It must be very trying for you.’

‘I don’t feel it,’ Emma said, with a pale smile.  ’She gives no trouble.  It’s only her weakness now; the pain has almost gone.’

‘But then she must be getting better.’

Emma shook her head, looking aside.  As Alice kept silence, she continued: 

’I was glad to hear you’d gone to see Richard.  He wouldn’t—­I was afraid he mightn’t have time to get here for Christmas.’

There was a question in the words, a timorously expectant question.  Emma had learnt the sad lesson of hope deferred, always to meet discouragement halfway.  It is thus one seeks to propitiate the evil powers, to turn the edge of their blows by meekness.

‘No, he couldn’t come,’ said Alice.

She had a muff on her left hand, and was turning it round and round with the other.  Emma had not asked her to sit down, merely because of the inward agitation which absorbed her.

‘He’s quite well?’

‘Oh yes, quite well.’

Again Alice paused.  Emma’s heart was beating painfully.  She knew now that Richard’s sister had not come on an ordinary visit; she felt that the call to Wanley had had some special significance.  Alice did not ordinarily behave in this hesitating way.

‘Did—­did he send me a message?’

‘Yes.’

But even now Alice could not speak.  She found a way of leading up to the catastrophe.

’Oh, mother has been going on so, Emma!  What do you think?  She won’t have anything to do with the house any longer.  She’s given me the keys and all the money she had, and she’s going to live just in her bedroom.  She says she’ll get her food from the kitchen herself, and she won’t have a thing done for her by any one.  I’m sure she means it; I never saw her in such a state.