We have seen how, afterwards, she came to be sorry for the part she had taken in separating the lovers. And now, when she looked at Walter's wan countenance, and watched his tottering steps, love and sorrow welled up from her full heart in a mingled current, the more that she believed, with the rest, in her brother's comparative poverty, and traced it all, or much of it, to herself, in having driven him away from England, where he was getting on so well.
Hitherto Elizabeth had not had much opportunity of conversing with Walter, for at Low Beech every one had his or her share of hard work to perform, which filled up every hour of the day, leaving little time for what would have been called idling.
One fine afternoon however—and it happened to be the same day as that on which Sarah and Helen, three hundred miles away, had their chat under the beech tree—Walter announced his intention of walking up to High Beech Farm, to take leave of his brother George's wife, and he asked Elizabeth to bear him company, and assist him with her stronger arm.
After some little demur, leave of absence was granted by Mrs. Matthew, and the brother and sister set out together. For some time they walked on in silence; but presently Walter spoke.
"You don't seem very happy, Elizabeth. I have been trying to get a chat with you alone all the time I have been here, and haven't been able; but I have watched and noticed you. There's something on your mind, I think."
"Why, Walter, what should there be?" said Elizabeth, with assumed lightness of speech. And then she added, more quickly, and with evident feeling, "It does not make one any the happier, Walter, to see you in such a poor way."
"Then I had better not have come to the old place to see you at all, if that makes you sorrowful," said the invalid brother.
"Oh, I don't say so, Walter. Of course, it was a very pleasant surprise when you came in so unexpectedly; but when that feeling went off, it gave way, perhaps, to another sort of feeling, when we saw you looking so bad, and showing such signs of weakness and illness."
"Do you think so? I have rather fancied, now, that father and mother, and the rest of them, except yourself, don't seem to mind it much."
"There are different ways of showing such things," Elizabeth remarked. And then she added, "But very likely I have felt more than the others have done. You and I were always good friends, Walter, till—" and here she stopped short.