It is scarcely necessary for me to say how much Lucy and myself were startled at this question. The former buried her face in her hands without making any reply; but good Mr. Hardinge, altogether unconscious of anything's being wrong, was eager to exculpate his son.
"Rupert has been sent for, my dear child," he said, "and, though he is engrossed with love and Miss Merton, he will not fail to hasten hither the instant he receives my letter."
"Miss Merton!" repeated Grace, pressing both her hands on her temples--"who is she? I do not remember anybody of that name?"
We now understood that the mind of the dear patient was losing its powers; of course no efforts were made to give a truer direction to her thoughts. We could only listen, and weep. Presently, Grace passed an arm round the neck of Lucy, and drew her towards her, with a childish earnestness.
"Lucy, love," she continued--"we will persuade these foolish boys from this notion of going to sea. What if Miles's father, and Rupert's great-grand-father were sailors; it is no reason they should be sailors too!"
She paused, appeared to meditate, and turned towards me. Her head was still inclining on my bosom, and she gazed upwards at my face, as fondly as she did in that tender meeting we held just after my return home, in the family room. There was sufficient strength to enable her to raise her pallid but not emaciated hand to my face, even while she passed it over my cheeks, once more parting the curls on my temples, and playing with my hair, with infantile fondness.
"Miles," the dear angel whispered, utterance beginning to fail her--"do you remember what mother told us about always speaking the truth? You are a manly boy, brother, and have too much pride to say anything but the truth; I wish Rupert were as frank."
This was the first, the last, the only intimation I had ever heard from Grace, of her being conscious of any defect in Rupert's character. Would to God she had seen this important deficiency earlier! though this is wishing a child to possess the discernment and intelligence of a woman. The hand was still on my cheek, and I would not have had it removed at that bitter moment to have been well assured of Lucy's love.
"See," my sister resumed, though she now spoke merely in a whisper--"how brown his cheek is, though his forehead is white. I doubt if mother would know him, Lucy. Is Rupert's cheek as brown as this, dear?"
"Rupert has not been as much exposed of late as Miles," Lucy answered huskily, Grace's arm still clinging to her neck.