“Ah, my dear,” she said; “awake?”
“Yes,” I said, springing up, all dressed as I was. “You have not been watching here all night?”
“Oh, no; I only came on at daybreak. He’s sleeping very calmly.”
“Has he spoken?”
“Oh dear no, and is not likely to for long enough. Such a pity as it is, poor man!”
“It is a terrible injury,” I said. “Yes, my dear; and how thankful I am it wasn’t my poor Esau. What should I have done if it had been he?”
“It would have been terrible,” I said. “Or you, my dear,” she whispered hurriedly, as if in apology for not naming me before.
“Oh, that would have been no consequence,” I replied, bitterly.
“Oh, my dear,” she cried, with the tears in her eyes; “don’t—don’t talk like that. I know you’ve been in trouble, but we all have that, and they say it makes the happiness all the sweeter.”
“Yes, they say so,” I replied gloomily.