“Yes, yes, dear, of course,” she cried, struggling hard the while to master her emotion. “I will, indeed, try—to be calm—and patient. But tell me; he has had a message about rejoining his ship?”
“Yes, dear.”
“And he is to go soon?”
Neil was silent.
“Neil, pray speak,” she sobbed.
“Yes, my child. He brought a telegram.”
“A despatch,” she said, correcting him.
“No, dear—a telegram.”
“Then—then—it means—something sudden—for them to telegraph. I can bear it, now, dear. How soon is he to go?”
“Isabel, my child, will you trust in me to help you to do what is best?” said Neil tenderly.