“Certainly, ma’am, and it’s high time you should begin to take a little care of yourself; you must, indeed, or you’ll rue it; you’re too much on your feet, and you have had no rest night or day, and it’s quite necessary you should, unless you mean to put yourself out of the world, which would not do at all. We can’t spare you, ma’am, we can’t indeed—a deal too valuable.”
For some time Charles Fairfield continued in very much the same state. At the end of three or four days he signed faintly to Alice, who was in the room, with her large soft eyes gazing on the invalid, whenever she could look unperceived. She got up gently and came close to him.
“Yes, darling,” and she lowered her head that he might speak more easily.
Charles whispered—
“Quite well?”
“You feel quite well? Thank God,” she answered, her large eyes filling with tears.
“Not I—you,” he whispered with querulous impatience; “ain’t you?”
“Quite, darling.”
His fine blue Fairfield eyes were raised to her face.
With a short sigh, he whispered—