"Of course you will. Get well and strong, the first thing."
"I'll—try."
"I've got a note from Dr. Bryant. He couldn't come, and so much the better, perhaps. But he offers you a home still. And you must go the first possible day."
"Yes. She told me—"
"Of course," as voice failed. "That's the right thing. The Valentines are strangers, and we are too much indebted to them already. You can get off in a day or two?"
"If Mr. Jasper will let me. I am so tired now, with everything."
"Change will do you good. I can't have you put off. Only mind—you belong to me, not to the Bryants."
"Must I love nobody there?"
"You'll like them well enough. Quite as much as signifies. It's only for a time. Be sure you write to me once a week, and tell me everything. I mean to get on, and to have a home for you by-and-by."
Lettice was nerving herself to deliver the dying message of Cecilia, which she knew Felix had not yet heard. Twice she began to speak of it, and Felix led away to other subjects. The third time she held to her point, refused to be diverted from it, and with resolute tearlessness repeated the impassioned words which had made a vivid impression on her own mind. Felix heard in silence.