“I have been a great trouble to you,” said Will.
“Yes, indeed! a dreadful trouble. I hope you are not going to try my patience much longer.”
“I don’t know. I hope not, for your sake.” And then in a little Will added, “Do you know, Graeme, I am beginning to be glad of this illness after all.”
Graeme laughed.
“Well, if you are glad of it, I will try and bear it patiently a little longer. I daresay we are taking the very best means to prolong it chattering at this unreasonable hour.”
“I am not sleepy,” said Will, “and I am not restless either. I think I am really better, and it will do me good to have a little talk; but you are tired.”
“I am tired, but I am not sleepy. Besides, if you are really better, I can sleep for a week, if I like. So, if it be a pleasure to you, speak on.”
“What was it that Janet said that made you sigh so drearily just now?” asked Will.
Graeme would have liked the conversation to take any other turn rather than that, but she said, gently,—
“I think my smile must have been for what Janet said. I am sure I laughed heartily enough when she said it to me so long ago. I suppose I sighed to think that what she said has come true.”