"You have been ill a long time, Irene, and have kept it from me. That was not right; you should have been honest in your letters. A pretty figure you will cut nursing sick folks! Work in my sight, indeed! If you say work to me again, I will clap you into a lunatic asylum and keep you there till the war is over. Turn your face to the light."
"I am well enough in body; it is my mind only that is ill at ease; my heart only that is sick—sorely sick. Here I shall find employment, and, I trust, partial forgetfulness. Put me to work at once; that will be my best medicine."
"And you really missed me, Queen?"
"Yes, inexpressibly; I felt my need of you continually. You must know how I cling to you now."
Again he drew her little hands to his granite mouth, and seemed to muse for a moment.
"Doctor, how is Electra?"
"Very well—that is, as well as such an anomalous, volcanic, torrid character ought to be. At first she puzzled me (and that is an insult I find it hard to forgive), but finally I found the clue. She is indefatigable and astonishingly faithful as a nurse; does all her duty, and more, which is saying a good deal—for I am a hard taskmaster. Aren't you afraid that I will work you more unmercifully than a Yankee factory-child, or a Cornwall miner? See here, Queen; what do you suppose brought Electra to Richmond?"
"A desire to render some service to the sick and suffering, and also to be comparatively near her cousin."
"Precisely; only the last should be first, and the first last. Russell is a perverse, ungrateful dog."
As he expected, she glanced up at him, but refrained from comment.