"My daughter, if Miss Hyde will sit with our boy a little longer, we will go into the garden for a breath of air."
Bosworth called them to him, kissed his mother's cheek, and the grandmother's hand, and the old lady went out in her stately way, while the small woman followed in her wake, like a little boat tacked to a graceful yacht.
"Miss Hyde," said the young man, the moment the door closed, "you came alone?"
"Yes," I replied; "I hurried off without telling any one where I was going."
"You are very kind," he repeated. "They are all well, I hope, at the house?"
"Very well; they will be sorry to hear that you are sick."
"Miss Hyde!" he exclaimed, hurriedly,—so weak from sickness that he forgot all the reticence and self-command which characterized him in health,—"Miss Hyde, do you think she would come to see me?"
I knew whom he meant—there was no necessity for mentioning any name.
"Would she come, do you believe?" he asked again.
"I am certain that she would," I replied. "You are an old friend to all of us; why should she not?"