I'd some thoughts that we might get a little cottage, I said, quite a small one, and farther back from the sea, where rents were lower. And there, with Miles' earnings, and what I could make by fine needlework, we should get on. At least I hoped so. I didn't speak out my doubts and fears, and Jervis seemed to have none.
"It'll be all right," says he. "Shouldn't wonder if the cottage is waiting for us."
But I'd got the burden of it all on me, and I was tired with long nursing, and I didn't feel near so hopeful.
I couldn't see the way to our getting on at all; and sometimes, when I was alone, I had a good cry, thinking of what lay before us.
[CHAPTER VII.]
A PLACE FOR MILES.
MRS. MURCHISON'S STORY—(continued).
IT must have been one day not much later that Mr. Kingscote came in, as he often did come in, and sat down for a chat. He was rather a short gentleman, not quite so tall as his wife, and thin, and very quiet. And though he wasn't like Master Bertram in face, he'd got a way of laughing like Master Bertram.
"I don't want to see your husband yet," said he, "I want a few words with you first." And then he asked the very question Jervis had asked,—"What was I thinking of doing?"
"For I suppose it is time we should face matters," said he. "Don't you think so, Mrs. Murchison? We can't expect to see your husband a great deal better at present, I'm afraid."