“It is joy—it is sudden joy!” said Ethel. “See, she is better now—”
“Master Harry! Well, I never!” and James, “with one wring of the hand, retreated, while old nurse was nearly hugged to death, declaring all the time that he didn’t ought to have come in such a way, terrifying every one out of their senses! and as for poor Miss May—
“Where is she?” cried Harry, starting at the sight of the vacant sofa.
“Only upstairs,” said Ethel; “but where’s Alan? Is not he come?”
“Oh, Ethel, don’t you know?” His face told but too plainly.
“Nurse! nurse, how shall we tell her?” said Ethel.
“Poor dear!” exclaimed nurse, sounding her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “She’ll never abear it without her papa. Wait for him, I should say. But bless me, Miss Mary, to see you go on like that, when Master Harry is come back such a bonny man!”
“I’m better now,” said Mary, with an effort. “Oh, Harry! speak to me again.”
“But Margaret!” said Ethel, while the brother was holding Mary in his embrace, and she lay tremulous with the new ecstasy upon his breast—“but Margaret. Nurse, you must go up, or she will suspect. I’ll come when I can; speak quietly. Oh! poor Margaret! If Richard would but come in!”
Ethel walked up and down the room, divided between a tumult of joy, grief, dread, and perplexity. At that moment a little voice said at the door, “Please, Margaret wants Harry to come up directly.”