Bowyer cried.
The vicar had a gentle professional laugh over the confusion of his
wife's mind. But the doctor took the matter more seriously. "Lady Mary is
safely buried and done with, I am not thinking of her," he said; "but I
am thinking of Mary Vivian's senses, which will not stand this much
longer. Try and find out from her if she sees anything: if she has come
to that, whatever she says we must have her out of there."
But Mrs. Bowyer had nothing to report when this conclave of friends met
again. Mary would not allow that she had seen anything. She grew paler
every day, her eyes grew larger, but she made no confession; and Connie
bloomed and grew, and met no more old ladies upon the stairs.
XII.
The days passed on, and no new event occurred in this little history. It
came to be summer,--balmy and green,--and everything around the old house
was delightful, and its beautiful rooms became more pleasant than ever in
the long days and soft brief nights. Fears of the earl's return and of
the possible end of the Turners' tenancy began to disturb the household,
but no one so much as Mary, who felt herself to cling as she had never
done before to the old house. She had never got over the impression that
a secret presence, revealed to no one else, was continually near her,
though she saw no one.
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