side himself that he had said more than
he intended, far more than he would have felt safe. But the girl was as
far beside herself as he was, and she took him up.
"Serve her right," she cried. "I shouldn't care. I hate her! I hate her!
I told you once I couldn't, but I do. She's the biggest fool that ever
lived. She knew _nothing_ of what I felt. I believe she thought I would
rejoice with her. I didn't know whether I should shriek in her face or
scream out laughing. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and she looked at
me as if she felt like the Virgin Mary after the Annunciation. Oh! the
stupid, _inhuman_ fool!"
Her words rushed forth faster and faster, she caught her breath with
gasps, and her voice grew more shrill at every sentence. Osborn shook
her again.
"Keep quiet," he ordered her. "You are going into hysterics, and it
won't do. Get hold of yourself."
"Go for Ameerah," she gasped, "or I'm afraid I can't. She knows what to
do."
He went for Ameerah, and the silently gliding creature came bringing her
remedies with her. She looked at her mistress with stealthily
questioning but affectionate eyes, and sat down on the floor rubbing her
hands and feet in a sort of soothing massage. Osborn went out of the
room, and the two women were left together. Ameerah knew many ways of
calming her mistress's nerves, and perhaps one of the chief ones was to
lead her by subtle powers to talk out her rages and anxieties. Hester
never knew that she was revealing herself and her moods until after her
interviews with the Ayah were over. Sometimes an hour or so had passed
before she began to realise that she had let out things which she had
meant to keep secret. It was never Ameerah who talked, and Hester was
never conscious that she talked very much herself. But afterwards she
saw that the few sentences she had uttered were such as would satisfy
curiosity if the Ayah felt it. Also she was not, on the whole, at all
sure that the woman felt it. She showed no outward sign of any interest
other than the interest of a deep affection. She loved her young
mistress to-day as passionately as she had loved her as a child when she
had held her in her bosom as if she had been her own. By the time Emily
Walderhurst had reached Palstrey, Ameerah knew many things. She
understood that her mistress was as one who, standing upon the brink of
a precipice, was being slowly but surely pushed over its edge--pushed,
pushed by Fate. This was the thing
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