CHAPTER XII
‘DO YOU THINK SHE IS mad?’ Agnes asked.
‘I think she is simply wicked. False, superstitious, inveterately cruel—but not mad. I believe her main motive in coming here was to enjoy the luxury of frightening you.’
‘She has frightened me. I am ashamed to own it—but so it is.’
Henry looked at her, hesitated for a moment, and seated himself on the sofa by her side.
‘I am very anxious about you, Agnes,’ he said. ‘But for the fortunate chance which led me to call here today—who knows what that vile woman might not have said or done, if she had found you alone? My dear, you are leading a sadly unprotected solitary life. I don’t like to think of it; I want to see it changed—especially after what has happened today. No! no! it is useless to tell me that you have your old nurse. She i
