Emma understood the allusion, and said hastily:
“I am very sorry for you—I am indeed, if you won’t be angry with me for saying so. It is cruel that you should have to suffer like this for no fault of your own. It would kill me if I found myself in the same position—yes, I am sure that it would.”
“Luckily, or unluckily, it doesn’t kill me, miss, though sometimes it is hard enough to bear. You see that the burden is laid upon the broadest back, and I can carry what would crush you. Still, I thank you for your sympathy and the kind thought which made you speak it. I have very few memories of that sort, and I shall never forget this one.”
For another five minutes or so they went on without speaking, since their fount of conversation seemed to have dried up. At length, beginning to feel the silence irksome, Emma stopped and held out her hand, saying that she would now return.
“Would you listen to a word or two from me before you go, miss? And would you promise not to repeat it no, not to Mr. Levinger even?” said Joan suddenly.
“Certainly, if you wish it. What is it about?”
“About you and myself and another person. Miss Levinger, I am going away from here—I believe for good—and I think it likely that we shall not meet again. It is this that makes me bold to speak to you. When I am gone you will hear all sorts of tales about me and Sir Henry.”
“Really—really!” said Emma, in some distress.
“Listen to me, miss: there is nothing very dreadful, and I speak for your own good. While all this sickness was on I learned something I learned that you are fond of Sir Henry, never mind how——”
“I know how,” murmured Emma. “Oh! did you tell him?”