I've asked English people often. I thought perhaps
you'd help me--you'd tell me how to make my husband do something for
me--for me--and for his daughter! Look at her"--Netta paused and
pointed--"she's ill--she's dropping. We had to hurry through from Lucca.
We couldn't afford to stop on the way. We sold everything we had; some
people collected a hundred francs for us; and we just managed to buy our
tickets. Felicia didn't want to come, but I made her. I couldn't see her
die before my eyes. We've starved for months. We've parted with
everything, and I've written to Mr. Melrose again and again. He's never
answered--till a few weeks ago, and he said if we troubled him again
he'd stop the money. He's a bad, bad man."
Shaking, her teeth chattering, her hands clenched at her side, the
forlorn creature stared at Victoria. She was not old, but she was a
wreck; a withered, emaciated wreck of the woman Victoria had once seen
twenty years before.
Victoria, laying a gentle hand upon her, drew an armchair forward.
"Sit down, please, and rest. You shall have food directly. I will have
rooms got ready. And this is your daughter?"
She went up to the girl who stood shivering like her mother, and
speechless. But her proud black eyes met Victoria's with a passion in
them that seemed to resent a touch, a look. "She ought to be lovely!"
thought Victoria; "she is--if one could feed and dress her."
"You poor child! Come and lie down."
She took hold of the girl and guided her to a sofa.
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