“Yes.” And then he told me what considerations had impelled him to make the venture, and with what precautions he had made it.
“And how was she?” I eagerly asked.
“As usual,” was the brief though sad reply.
“As usual—that is, far from happy and far from strong.”
“She is not positively ill,” returned he; “and she will recover her spirits in a while, I have no doubt—but so many trials have been almost too much for her. How threatening those clouds look,” continued he, turning towards the window. “We shall have thunder-showers before night, I imagine, and they are just in the midst of stacking my corn. Have you got yours all in yet?”
“No. And, Lawrence, did she—did your sister mention me?”
“She asked if I had seen you lately.”
“And what else did she say?”
“I cannot tell you all she said,” replied he, with a slight smile; “for we talked a good deal, though my stay was but short; but our conversation was chiefly on the subject of her intended departure, which I begged her to delay till I was better able to assist her in her search after another home.”
“But did she say no more about me?”