"Then I suppose I had better open it," returned Althea. "There was some talk of their going to Cleveland Terrace to have tea with Mollie, if they finished their shopping in time. Perhaps this is to say that she is out or engaged." And then Althea opened the yellow envelope. But her countenance changed as she read the telegram. "Do not come," was all it said. "Mollie is ill--will write." It was from Everard Ward. CHAPTER XXVIII. "BUT YET THE PITY OF IT." "The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together."--_All's Well that Ends Well._ "For this relief much thanks."--_Hamlet._ When Althea had read the brief message, she told Mitchell very quietly that there was no answer required, and that she might give the boy some refreshment and send him away; and then, as the maid left the room, she handed the telegram to Moritz. It troubled her kind heart to see the pain in his eyes as he read it. He was quite pale, and his lips twitched under his moustache. "What does it mean?" he asked, in rather a stifled voice. "I thought you said that she was well. If she is ill, why is her sister to be kept away? You see what he says: 'Do not come.'" "Yes, I see," returned Althea, very gravely. "It must be something sudden; but I hope, for poor dear Waveney's sake, that it is nothing infectious. Let me think for a moment--one cannot grasp it at once. This is Wednesday, and on Sunday Mollie was well--only a little pale and tired; and yes, I remember, she had a slight headache, and so Waveney persuaded her not to go to church." "A headache and pale and tired! Good heavens, Althea, it is clear as daylight! She was sickening for something." Moritz's tone was so tragical, and he paced the room so restlessly, that, in spite of her very real anxiety, Althea could hardly repress a smile. "Dear Moritz," she said, gently, "there is no need to take such a gloomy view. Our pretty Mollie is human, and must be ill sometimes like other people. Perhaps it is a bad cold or influenza, or it might even be measles--they are very much about." For Moritz's "unregenerate woman" had been singularly captious since the New Year, and close muggy days had paved the way for all kinds of ailments to which flesh is heir. There was a great deal of sickness at Dereham, and Althea had been both wise and careful in refusing to allow Waveney to go as usual amongst her pensioners.