'All the more reason, when there is but one. Perhaps it is because
you are tired out that you get nervous and agitated. You will be
quite different after a rest.'

'Are you sure?' whispered Averil, with her eyes rounded, 'are you
sure that is all the reason?'

'What do you mean?' said Mary.

Averil drew in her breath, and squeezed both hands tight on her
chest, as she spoke very low: 'They sent me away from mamma--they
told me papa wanted me: then they sent me from him; they said I was
better with Leonard; and--and I said to myself, nothing should make
me leave Leonard.'

'It was not papa--my father--that sent you without telling you,' said
Mary, confidently.

'No,' said Averil.

'No; I have heard him say that he would take all risks, rather than
deceive anybody,' said Mary, eagerly. 'I have heard him and Dr.
Spencer argue about what they called pious frauds, and he always said
they were want of faith. You may trust him. He told me Leonard was
in the state when calm sleep was chiefly wanted. I know he would
think it cruel not to call you if there were need; and I do not
believe there will be need.'

Something like this was reiterated in different forms; and though
Averil never regularly yielded, yet as they sat on, there came pauses