“Have you found her, Nugent?” asked Lady Enid, fixing her brown eyes upon him.
“Yes,” he answered, drawing a chair to her couch and looking at her pale face and fragile form with a dull pain at his heart. “We have been talking together, Enid, and we have made two arrangements which we hope will please you. The first is for us all to go down to Court Manor as soon as ever you like. The second is for me to paint your portrait and your friend’s—Margery Daw. Does that please you, my darling?”
Lady Enid raised her hands to her eyes—her face was hidden. She made no reply, and her brother leaned over her and kissed her tenderly.
“My sweet Enid!” he murmured. “My poor little one. How selfish I have been!”
Lady Enid let her hands drop.
“Selfish—you selfish, Nugent? How can you say so, when by this very proposal you sacrifice your own wishes? No, my dear brother; I cannot accept it.”
“But it is my wish, Enid. It will be like a glimpse of peace to see the old place; and, back in her own nest, my darling will grow stronger, please Heaven.”
Lady Enid’s face had grown a shade paler, her lips were trembling.
“Nugent,” she said, slowly, “I will go; but, first, will you do something for me?”
“Anything on earth!”