"Only Hugh!" repeated Colonel Ferrers, gazing after the two, as they went across the field, Jack walking steadily, with long, even steps, very different from his usual hop-skip-and-jump method of progression.
"Only Hugh! Only the greater part of the world—eh? what are you saying, Hilda, my dear?"
"Only that we will go home together, dear Colonel Ferrers!" said Hildegarde, who had already taken off her skates. "We will go back together, and the others can follow whenever they are ready. We shall find him comfortable already, with Mrs. Beadle tucking him up in bed, and talking about chicken broth and wine jelly, neither of which he will need in the least. Come, dear sir!"
"I will come!" said the Colonel. "You are a good child, Hilda! I—I am rather shaken, I believe. I will come with pleasure, my love! Be good enough to take my arm!"
CHAPTER XIII.
MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Hildegarde awoke in the dark, with the sound of bells in the air. Her first thought was that of all women in similar case—fire! She sat up in bed and listened; but these were no fire-bells that rang so joyously, breaking through the hush of the winter morning with glad rejoicing. "Glory to the newly born!" she said, softly, and was silent for a little. Presently she waved her hand in a comprehensive greeting to the friends on walls and shelves, whom she could not yet see.
"Merry Christmas!" she cried. "Merry Christmas, Sir Walter! Merry Christmas, Viscount, and you too, Saint William! What a pity I cannot say it in Dutch!"