“It is not her way to blame anyone but herself,” said Alick, “and, in fact, our showing her the woodcut deception was a preparation for the rest of it. But I have said very little to her about all that matter. She required to be led away rather than back to it. Brooding over it is fatal work, and yet her spirits are too much weakened and shattered to bear over-amusement. That is the reason that I thought you would be so very welcome tomorrow. She has seen no one yet but Lady Temple, and shrinks from the very idea.”
“I do not see why I should not manage it very well,” said Ermine, cheerfully, “if Miss Curtis will let me know in time whether she is equal to seeing me. You know I can walk into the house now.”
Alick thanked her earnestly. His listless manner was greatly enlivened by his anxiety, and Colonel Keith was obliged to own that marriage would be a good thing for him; but such a marriage! If from sheer indolence he should leave the government to his wife, then—Colin could only shrug his shoulders in dismay.
Nevertheless, when Ermine’s wheeled chair came to the door the next afternoon, he came with it, and walked by her side up the hill, talking of what had been absolutely the last call she had made—a visit when they had both been riding with the young Beauchamps.
“Suppose anyone had told me then I should make my next visit with you to take care of me, how pleased I should have been,” said Ermine, laughing, and taking as usual an invalid’s pleasure in all the little novelties only remarked after long seclusion. That steep, winding, pebbly road, with the ferns and creeping plants on its rocky sides, was a wonderful panorama to her, and she entreated for a stop at the summit to look down on the sea and the town; but here Grace came out to them full of thanks and hopes, little knowing that to them the event was a very great one. When at the glass doors of the garden entrance, Ermine trusted herself to the Colonel’s arm, and between him and her crutch crossed the short space to the morning room, where Rachel rose from her sofa, but wisely did not come forward till her guest was safely placed in a large easy chair.
Rachel then held out her hand to the Colonel, and quietly said, “Thank you,” in a subdued manner that really touched him, as he retreated quickly and left them together. Then Rachel sat down on a footstool close to Ermine, and looked up to her. “Oh, it is so good of you to come to me! I would not have dared to think of it, but I just said I wished to get out for nothing but to go to you; and then he—Captain Keith—would go and fetch you.”
“As the nearest approach to fetching the moon, I suppose,” said Ermine, brightly. “It was very kind to me, for I was longing to see you, and I am glad to find you looking better than I expected.”
For in truth Rachel’s complexion had been little altered by her illness; and the subdued dejected expression was the chief change visible, except in the feebleness and tremulousness of all her movements. “Yes, I am better,” she said. “I ought to be, for he is so good to me.”
“Dear Rachel, I was so very glad to hear of this,” said Ermine, bending down to kiss her.
“Were you? I thought no one could be that cared for him,” said Rachel.
“I cared more for him the week that you were ill than ever I had done before.”
“Grace tells me of that,” said Rachel, “and when he is here I believe it. But, Miss Williams, please look full at me, and tell me whether everybody would not think—I don’t say that I could do it—but if everyone would not think it a great escape for him if I gave him up.”
“No one that could really judge.”
“Because, listen,” said Rachel, quickly, “the regiment is going to Scotland, and he and the mother have taken it into their heads that I shall get well faster somewhere away from home. And—and they want to have the wedding as soon as I am better; and they are going to write about settlements and all that. I have never said I would, and I don’t feel as if—as if I ought to let him do it; and if ever the thing is to be stopped at all, this is the only time.”
“But why? You do not wish—”
“Don’t talk of what I wish,” said Rachel. “Talk of what is good for him.”
Ermine was struck with the still resolute determination of judging for herself—the self-sufficiency, almost redeemed by the unselfishness, and the face was most piteously in earnest.
“My dear, surely he can be trusted to judge. He is no boy, in spite of his looks. The Colonel always says that he is as much older than his age in character as he is younger in appearance.”
“I know that,” said Rachel, “but I don’t think he ought to be trusted here; for you see,” and she looked down, “all the blindness of—of his affection is enhanced by his nobleness and generosity, and he has nobody to check or stop him; and it does seem to me a shame for us all to catch at such compassion, and encumber him with me, just because I am marked for scorn and dislike. I can’t get anyone to help me look at it so. My own people would fancy it was only that I did not care for him; and he—I can’t even think about it when he is here, but I get quite distracted with doubts if it can be right whenever he goes away. And you are the only person who can help me! Bessie wrote very kindly to me, and I asked to see
