“And oh! I still hope that he may come here. It will be dreadful to have to bid him good-bye at the wharf, in the multitude of men. But if I do have to go to the wharf, you will go with me, Britomarte?” pleaded Erminie.
“Certainly,” replied Miss Conyers.
“And oh! Britty, Britty, if you would only give him a little hope—a little hope to cheer him on his way.”
“Don’t speak of it, Erminie. I would die for your brother rather than sacrifice my principles so far.”
Erminie sighed and forbore to reply.
“Where is Elfie?” inquired Miss Conyers, to change the conversation.
“She is packing her father’s portmanteau. He, too, leaves us to join his regiment to-morrow; and Ethel goes the day after. We shall have a lonely house here, Britomarte.”
“You will fill it with refugees from the South, never fear,” said Miss Conyers, cheerfully.
Even while she spoke, the door bell rang sharply.
“That is Justin!” she exclaimed, springing to her feet and running out to meet him.