"Thanks. Yes. I am better. As much better as—" She hesitated, looking sharply at the clergyman. Had Dr. Rotherbotham informed him as to her true state? Mr. Kelly's unconscious face seemed to supply a negative. "As much better as I can expect to be," she said.
"In so short a time, you mean. I fear it will be long before you are fit for hard work again."
"Yes." An odd impulse seized her to tell him all; odd, because she did not care for Mr. Kelly; but no doubt there was a natural desire for sympathy: she had nobody else to turn to; and she, like Mr. Kelly, believed that they were alone. The impulse seemed to her foolish, and she resisted it. What good would speaking do?
"Yes," she repeated, "I am going to make my home for a time with my uncle in the west of England. Lettice, too, of course. Felix is more or less provided for, thanks to you. I am not likely at present to be strong enough for work: and my uncle has offered to take us in."
"I am glad to hear it. Is his name Anderson?"
"No; Bryant. He is my mother's only brother. A medical man; but I suppose he has not practised for twenty years."
"And you have not seen him lately."
"I have never seen him." She offered no explanation of the fact.
"It will be a trial to you to leave Felix."
"A trial!" She could have laughed, the word was so inadequate. Life, apart from Felix, would be mere existence, not life. "One has to bear what is inevitable."