"So I do. They have the same initials."
Such was the nature of Gualtier's musical instructions. These communications, however, were brief and hurried, and only served to deepen the intimacy between them. They had now mutually recognized themselves as two conspirators, and had thus become already indispensable to one another.
They waited patiently, however, and at length their patient waiting was rewarded. One day Gualtier came and found that Zillah was unwell, and confined to her room. It was the slightest thing in the world, but the General was anxious and fidgety, and was staying in the room with her trying to amuse her. This Miss Krieff told him with her usual bitterness.
"And now," said she, "we will have an hour. I want to know what you have done."
"Done! Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"No, nothing. My genius does not lie in that direction. You might as well have expected me to decipher a Ninevite inscription. I can do nothing."
"Have you tried?"
"Tried! I assure you that for the last month the only thing that I have thought of has been this. Many reasons have urged me to decipher it, but the chief motive was the hope of bringing to you a complete explanation."
"Have you not made out at least a part of it?"