The mists cleared away, the sense of desertion was gone, and she rose, but could not stand without his arm, and he almost lifted her into the carriage, where her appealing eye and helpless gesture made him follow her, and take Maurice on his knee. No one spoke; Maurice nestled close to his friend; awe-struck but weighed down by weariness and excitement. The blow had in reality been given when he was forced to relinquish the hope of seeing his brother again, and the actual certainty of his death fell with less comparative force. Perhaps he did not enter into the fact enough to ask for particulars. After a short space Sophy recovered herself enough to take out the letter, and read it over with greater comprehension.
‘They were come!’ she said.
‘In time. I am glad.’
‘In time to bring him peace, my uncle says! He knew mamma. I could never have borne it if I had deprived him of her!’
‘Nor I,’ said Ulick, from his heart. ‘Did one but know the upshot of one’s idle follies!’
Sophy looked towards Maurice.
‘Asleep!’ said Ulick. ‘No wonder. He has walked four miles! He has a heart that might have been born in Ireland;’ and as he looked at the fair young face softened and sweetened by sleep, ‘What an infant it is to have even fancied such an undertaking!’
‘Poor child!’ sighed Sophy. ‘He will never be the same!’
‘Nay, grief at that age does not check the spirits for life.’
‘You have never known,’ said Sophy.