When Ida reached home from her visit to the City,
she saw her mother risen and sitting by the fire.
Lotty had found the suspense insupportable as she
lay still, and, though the pains in her chest grew
worse and the feeling of lassitude was gaining upon
her, she had half-dressed, and even tried to move
about. Just before the child’s appearance,
she seemed to have sunk into something of a doze on
her chair, for, as the door opened, she started and
looked about her in doubt.
“Where have you been so long?” she asked
impatiently.
“I got back as quickly as I could, mother,”
said Ida, in some surprise.
“Got back? Is school over?”
“From the—the place you sent me to,
mother.”
“What am I thinking of!” exclaimed Lotty,
starting to consciousness. “Come here,
and tell me. Did you see—see him, Ida?
Mr. Woodstock, you know.”
“Yes, mother,” began the child, with pale
face, “and he—he said I was to tell
you—”
She burst into tears, and flew to her mother’s
neck.
“Oh, you won’t send me away from you,
mother dear? I can’t go away from you!”
Lotty felt she knew what this meant. Fear and
trouble wrought with her physical weakness to drive
her almost distracted. She sprang up, caught
the child by the shoulders, and shook her as if in
anger.
“Tell me, can’t you?” she cried,
straining her weak voice. “What did he
say? Don’t be a little fool! Can’t
the child speak?”
She fell back again, seized with a cough which choked
her. Ida stayed her sobbing, and looked on in
terror. Her mother motioned constantly to her
to proceed.
“The gentleman said,” Ida continued, with
calm which was the result of extreme self-control,
“that he would take me; but that you were never
to see me again.”
“Did he say anything else about me?” whispered
Lotty.
“No, nothing else.”
“Go—go and tell him you’ll
come,—you’ll leave me.”
Ida stood in anguish, speechless and motionless.
All at once her mother seemed to forget what she was
saying, and sat still, staring into the fire.
Several times she shivered. Her hands lay listlessly
on her lap; she breathed with difficulty.
Shortly afterwards, the landlady came into the room.
She was alarmed at Lotty’s condition. Her
attempts to arouse the sick woman to consciousness
were only partly successful. She went downstairs
again, and returned with another woman, a lodger in
the house. These two talked together in low tones.
The result of their colloquy was that Mrs. Ledward
dressed Lotty as well as she could, whilst the other
left the house and returned with a cab.
“We’re going to take your mother to the
hospital,” said Mrs. Ledward to the child.
“You wait here till we come back, there’s
a good girl. Now, hold up a bit, Lotty; try and
walk downstairs. That’s better, my girl.”
Ida was left alone.
