“Do not let worry about this increase other ills,” he said, kindly, “do not think about this again till you hear from me.”
“Is that possible?”
“I should not have thought so, if I had not watched my uncle cast off troubles about his eye-sight and the keeping his living.”
“Ah! but those were not of his own making.”
“‘There is a sparkle even in the darkest water.’ That was a saying of his,” said Alick, looking anxiously at her pale cheek and down-cast eye.
“Not when they are turbid.”
“They will clear,” he said, and smiled with a look of encouraging hope that again cheered her in spite of herself. “Meantime remember that in any way I can help you, it will be the greatest favour—” he checked himself as he observed the exceeding languor and lassitude apparent in her whole person, and only said, “My sister is too much at the bottom of it for me not to feel it the greatest kindness to me to let me try to be of the slightest use. I believe I had better go now,” as he rose and looked at her wistfully; “you are too much tired to talk.”
“I believe I am,” she said, almost reluctantly, “but thank you, this has done me good.”
“And you are really getting better?”
“Yes, I believe so. Perhaps I may feel it when this terrible day is over.”