'Papa and mamma. It seems like yesterday when he died in the room above us, and when he said in a low, weak voice—"Don't cry, Mary darling—don't cry so; our separation is only for a time;" and then added, "Is that the daybreak?" "No," said I. "It is—it is—and so bright!" he exclaimed, and then died. Oh, Captain Colville, the light he saw must have been that of the other world, for just as he expired the clock struck midnight, and the lamp was burning very low.'
'Poor old gentleman! But take courage,' said Colville, with a soft smile, as he patted her shoulder; 'you have not yet left Birkwoodbrae.'
'What can he mean by this!' thought Mary, with a slight sense of annoyance, as she woke up from her dark dreamland.
'And your father, the colonel—he—he—pardon me, left you little more than Birkwoodbrae when he died?'
'His blessing was the best he had: Birkwoodbrae, I have said, was not his to leave. We have lived here on sufferance—Ellinor and I.'
Colville sat for a time silent, and Mary thought his question a very strange one, unless he had a deeper interest in them both than she thought he could possibly have; and, still pursuing a personal theme, he said,
'I have heard from Dr. Wodrow that his son Robert was your sister's admirer, and that they have quarrelled. Is not this to be regretted?'
'Regretted indeed!'
'You always seemed interested in him.'
'As Ellinor's lover—yes.'