“Yes. Had I better tell him?”
“Tell him?” faltered Claire.
“Yes. I thought not. He has enough to bear. I thought,” said the lad bitterly, “that I was doing a brave thing when they brought him in. I said he was my poor brother: but I found that they all knew. Claire! Sis!”
She had staggered from him, and would have fallen had he not held on to her hand.
“Speak—tell me!” she cried. “No, no! I can’t bear it! Don’t tell me there is some new trouble come.”
“What! Didn’t you know?”
She shook her head wildly, and wrung her hands and tried to speak, while he held her and whispered softly:
“Oh, sis—sis—dear sis!”
“Something has happened to Fred,” she panted at last. “Tell me: I can bear it now. Anything. I am used to trouble, dear.”
“My poor sis!” he whispered.