They knew they must not delay one another, and parted; Julius walking homewards by the Hall, where, alas! there was only one of the family able to move about the house, and she seldom left her patient.
Julius did, however, find her coming down-stairs with Dr. Worth, and little as he gathered that was reassuring in the physician’s words, there was a wistful moisture about her eyes, a look altogether of having a bird in her bosom, which made him say, as the doctor hurried off, “Anne, some one must be better.”
“Cecil is,” she said; and he had nearly answered, “only Cecil,” but her eyes brimmed over suddenly, and she said, “I am so thankful!”
“Miles!” he exclaimed.
She handed him a telegram. The Salamanca was at Spithead; Miles telegraphed to her to join him.
“Miles come! Thank God! Does mother know?”
“Hush! no one does,” and with a heaving breast she added, “I answered that I could not, and why, and that he must not come.”
“No, I suppose he must not till he is free of his ship. My poor Anne!”
“Oh no! I know he is safe. I am glad! But the knowledge would tear your mother to pieces.”
“Her soul is in Raymond now, and to be certain of Miles being at hand would be an unspeakable relief to him. Come and tell them.”