"Oh, yes," said Fanny, "I am sure only a lady could have written
anything so sweet as that about flowers in a sick-room; it so put me in
mind of the lovely flowers you used to bring me one at a time, when I
was ill at Cape Town."
There was no more sense to be had after those three once fell upon their
reminiscences.
That night, after having betrayed her wakefulness by a movement in her
bed, Alison Williams heard her sister's voice, low and steady, saying,
"Ailie, dear, be it what it may, guessing is worse than certainty."
"Oh, Ermine, I hoped--I know nothing--I have nothing to tell."
"You dread something," said Ermine; "you have been striving for
unconcern all the evening, my poor dear, but surely you know, Ailie,
that nothing is so bad while we share it."
"And I have frightened you about nothing."
"Nothing! nothing about Edward?"
"Oh, no, no!"
"And no one has made you uncomfortable?"
"No."
"Then there is only one thing that it can be, Ailie, and you need not
fear to tell me that. I always knew that if he lived I must be prepared
for it, and you would not have hesitated to tell me of his death."
"It is not that, indeed it is not, Ermine, it is only this--that I found
to-day that Lady Temple's major has the same name."
"But you said she was come home. You must have seen him."
"Yes, but I should not know him. I had only seen him once, remember,
twelve years ago, and when I durst not look at him."
"At least," said Ermine, quickly, "you can tell me what you saw to-day."
"A Scotch face, bald head, dark beard, grizzled hair."
"Yes I am grey, and he was five years older; but he used not to have a
Scotch face. Can you tell me about his eyes?"
"Dark," I think.
"They were very dark blue, almost black. Time and climate must have left
them alone. You may know him by those eyes, Ailie. And you could not
make out anything about him?"
"No, not even his Christian name nor his regiment. I had only the little
ones and Miss Rachel to ask, and they knew nothing. I wanted to keep
this from you till I was sure, but you always find me out."
"Do you think I couldn't see the misery you were in all the evening,
poor child? But now you have had it out, sleep, and don't be
distressed."
"But, Ermine, if you--"
"My dear, I am thankful that nothing is amiss with you or Edward. For
the rest, there is nothing but patience. Now, not another word; you must
not lose your sleep, nor take away my chance of any."