“I can’t help that,—I won’t stay here alone. If you leave me, I shall run down the path to meet them.”
“Then I’ll have to stay here. Very well, Mrs Blackwood, they’ll arrive in a few moments,—we’ll wait for them together.”
And then Varian again fell to ruminating, and Claire Blackwood, sick with her own thoughts, said no word.
At last they heard footsteps, and looked out to see the little procession headed by the two sisters-in-law.
Janet Varian was half supporting Minna, but her help was not greatly needed, for the very violence of Minna’s grief and fright gave her a sort of supernormal strength and she walked uprightly and swiftly.
“Where’s Frederick?” she demanded, in a shrill voice as she came up the steps,—“and where’s Betty? Where’s my child?”
Her voice rose to a shriek on the last words, and Doctor Varian took her by the arm, giving her his undivided attention.
“Be careful now, Minna,” he said, kindly but decidedly; “don’t lose your grip. You’ve a big trouble to face,—and do try, dear, to meet it bravely.”
“I’m brave enough, Herbert, don’t worry about that. Where’s Fred, I say?”
“Here,” was the brief reply, and Varian led her to her husband’s body.