“Ah, I see; something about Beck.”
She hid her face on his shoulder, and he felt her nod her head.
“He told me what you said to him, dear,” she whispered. “It was very dreadful at a time like this, but I could not help him speaking.”
“Oh, he told you, eh?”
“Yes, dear, and he told me what papa said.”
“Don’t—don’t talk about it, my child. It seems too terrible now.”
“Yes, dear, it does,” she said with a sob, “but the words would come. Let me ask you one thing, Neil, dear, and then I will not say another word. I wouldn’t say this, only it is so very terrible to me, and it’s all so still and quiet here now in the middle of the night, and it seems just the time for speaking.”
“What is it, then?”
Isabel was silent for a few moments, and then, with her lips very close to her brother’s ear, she whispered:
“Neil, dear, do you feel sure that papa will get better?”