As soon as he was out of the room, the transmigrator began to talk very fast to Jael. "Now look here, Jael, that poor man is alone in the world now, and very sad; he wants you to keep his house for him. He has been sending messages all day after you, and your room has been ready ever so long."
"Yes. But we could not find you. However, here you are. Now you must not go back to the farm. The poor squire won't be quite so sad if he sees you about him. You know he was always fond of you Dences. You should have seen him cry over you just now when he thought you were dead."
"I am more cared for than I thought," said Jael, softly.
"Yes, but not more than you deserve, my dear." He dipped a sponge- cake in wine. "Oblige me by eating that."
"It's a very wicked lass you are so good to," said she, softly, and some gentle tears began to flow.
"Stuff and nonsense!" said the doctor. "What do you know about wickedness? I'm a better judge of that than you, and I say you are the best girl and the most unselfish girl in the world; and the proof is that, instead of sitting down and nursing your own griefs, you are going to pluck up courage, and be a comfort to poor Mr. Raby in his lonely condition."
These words appeared to sink into Jael's mind: she put her hands to her head, and pondered them. Perhaps she might have replied to them, but Raby came down, and ordered her to her apartment.
She took a step or two in that direction, but presently drew back and would not move. "The women-folk! They'll see me on the stair, this figure."