"Yes; it is fatigue, I suppose. I shall be all right to-morrow, after a good-night. I do not feel that I can stay up any longer."
Harvey offered his arm, and they went, all three, through the conservatory into the lighted drawing-room.
"Thanks, my dear boy. It is a great comfort to have you here. You must come again very soon, and stay long, you and your Julia. I begin to feel that I am an old man, and it is a comfort to know that my Hermione has a kind brother—a brother and sister too—who will care for her."
"Yes, indeed," the young man said heartily.
"Yes, you would do it—would do all—will do all when the need arises. I have complete trust in your kind feeling. You will be a true brother to my darling—always!"
"Always!" repeated Harvey.
The word was very simple, but it had the force of a solemn promise in his estimation, he could hardly have said why.
Hermione stood somewhat apart, not moved by this as Harvey would have expected, but rather seeming not quite to approve of it. When Mr. Dalrymple turned for another "Good-night" of peculiar tenderness, her response was even a little cold. Whether Mr. Dalrymple noticed the fact it was impossible to tell. He went quietly from the room.
Half-a-minute of silence followed. Hermione remained motionless, the lamplight falling upon her dropped eyes. Harvey wished she would be so good as to sit down, that he might do the same, but she did not. The silence was broken by her voice.
"My grandfather is not well."