"Mr. Russell Smith is coming down again in a few weeks' time," Hilda said. "Meanwhile it is such a comfort to know that the worst danger is over."
"And Kitty is conscious now?" Aldyth said.
"Yes, she knows us. We cannot tell how much she can remember. She gave me such a faint sad little smile this morning—it made me cry—and she said to mother, 'Cheer up, mother; I am not going to die.'"
"Does she suffer pain?"
"Terrible pain. They give her morphia to deaden it; but even so she suffers. I see her clench her hands and bite her lips to keep from crying out. She is so brave, poor Kitty!"
"Yes, she was always brave," said Aldyth.
"Oh, if this had happened to me, I could understand it," exclaimed Hilda, bursting into tears. "I deserve to suffer—I have led such a selfish, idle life. What were my troubles, after all? I was strong and well, and could enjoy everything; but to be stricken down like Kitty—oh, it is terrible!"
"Gladys cannot forgive herself because she led Kitty into danger," said Aldyth. "She feels it very much."
"I dare say; I keep thinking of how easily it all might have been prevented; and I know mother must reproach herself bitterly for yielding her consent to the hunting. But it is of no good to dwell on that now."
"No; it is too late," said Aldyth, sadly, as she rose to take her departure.