Then Miss Hilary stretched her hands across the table and looked up piteously in her servant's face.
Only a servant; only that poor servant to whom she could look for any comfort in this sore trouble, this bitter humiliation.

There was no attempt at disguise or concealment between mistress and maid.
"Mrs.Jones has told me every thing, Elizabeth.

How is my sister?
She does not know ?" "No; and I think she is a good deal better this morning.

She has been very bad all week; only she would not let me send for you.

She is really getting well now; I'm sure of that!" "Thank God!" And then Miss Hilary began to weep.
Elizabeth also was thankful, even for those tears, for she had been perplexed by the hard, dry-eyed look of misery, deeper than anything she could comprehend, or than the circumstances seemed to warrant.
It was deeper.