'Then it was that wretched child that hurt his health?'
'So we thought. Dr. Lee asked him if there was not something on his mind.'
'The little wretch! Oh! if I had never asked her here! she has done more harm than she is worth!'
'He had got quite well,' said Cherry; 'and now he has his cough back again. O Mettie!'
'No,' said Wilmet, 'it is not that cough. It is only a chance cold; it is nearly gone. Besides, it cannot be the same as her first treason to him must have been.'
'That's true,' said Cherry, mournfully.
'After all,' said Wilmet, 'it is a happy escape for both our boys, if they can but feel it, poor fellows—but oh! to have been so deceived. And how ignorant one is—even living in the same house!' And Wilmet had a hearty fit of crying.
'And Edgar!' sighed Cherry.
'You must write. They all come to you, Cherry,' she added wistfully. 'You shall sit with dear Felix this evening, and I will keep the others away.'
This ordinance was carried out, but with no result as to conversation; for Felix's distress took the form of great tenderness as to the manner in which the blow was to fall upon Edgar. Nothing would satisfy him but Geraldine's writing immediately, under his own eye. Of course he ascribed all his own feelings to his brother; and though Cherry doubted, and could have written much better as from herself, she could but patiently write and re-write, when poor Felix found—as he did with everything that cost him consideration—that he was falling into his leading-article style; while all the time she saw him becoming more excited and flushed, till at last Wilmet came in, put an end to it, and sent her to bed, almost brokenhearted for both brothers, and struggling against her own hatred to the mischievous little witch who had played with their hearts.