She began to laugh as she spoke, with tears brimming over her lashes, and for a few moments was inclined to be hysterical again.
But Alwynne's firm grasp and calm voice was too much for Louise's will, weakened by emotion and fatigue; she was soon coaxed and hushed into quiet again, and after lying passively for a while in Alwynne's arms, fell into the sudden light sleep of utter exhaustion.
Alwynne, rocking her gently, sat on in the darkening room, without a thought of the passage of time; puzzling over the problem in her arms.
She was too ignorant and inexperienced to understand Louise's outburst, or to realise the dangerous strain that the child's sensibilities were undergoing but the touch of the little figure, clinging, nestling to her, stirred her. She was vaguely aware that something--somehow--was amiss. Innocently she rejoiced that Clare was being kind to Louise, that the child was so happy and content; but the complaint of fatigue, the frequent headaches, troubled her. She would speak to Elsbeth.... Perhaps the child needed a tonic? Elsbeth would know....
She glanced down. How different people looked asleep.... She had never before realised how young Louise was. What was she? Thirteen? But what a baby she looked, with her thin, child's shape and small, clutching hands.... It was the long-lashed lids that did it, hiding the beautiful eyes that were so much older, as she saw now, than the rest of Louise. With her soul asleep, Louise looked ten, and a frail little ghost of ten, at that.
Alwynne frowned. She supposed Clare Hartill realised how young Louise was, was right in allowing her to work so hard? But Clare knew all about girls, and what did she, Alwynne, know? After all Louise had never flagged before.... It was probably the usual end of term fatigue--and of course it was necessarily an unusually stiff three months for her.... She needed a holiday.... Next term would come more easily to her, poor little impetuous Louise.... Alwynne realised that she was growing fond of the child.
Suddenly she heard footsteps in the corridor, and her own name in Clare's impatient accents. Louise, too, roused at the sound, and, jerking herself upright, slid from Alwynne's lap to her feet, as the door opened and the light was switched on with a snap. Clare stood in the doorway.