She hated Veronica, now that Bosio was dead. But
for Veronica, Bosio would still have been alive. There was more than the
mere desperate determination to save herself, and her husband with her,
in what Matilde did after that. But when they entered the hall, the look
was quite gone from her face. She had been very gentle, all that morning
and afternoon. They had talked a little of the incident that had
occurred on the previous day, of Gregorio's feeling about not letting
Veronica spend money uselessly. He was so conscientious, Matilde had
said. Though the guardianship had expired, he still felt it his duty to
watch his former ward's expenditure. And he was not charitable--no, it
had always been a cause of regret to Matilde that Gregorio, with all his
good qualities, was hard to poor people. Bosio had been different.
Ah--poor Bosio!
She spoke gently, and sometimes there was a true ring in her voice which
Veronica heard and understood, for it was quite genuine. And now, she
seemed tired and weak--she who was so strong.
So they went to Veronica's room, and Elettra brought the tea things, and
Matilde made tea, and they both drank it, and talked a little more, and
gave the Maltese cat milk in a saucer, on the lower shelf of the little
two-storied tea-table.
Afterwards, Matilde went away to her room, and Veronica remained alone
after Elettra had taken away the things.
Before dinner, Elettra came and told her mistress that the countess was
suddenly taken very ill, and was crying aloud with the pain she
suffered.
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