They were silent for a long time after that, and then Rose said, flushing a little,—
“And, Graeme, dear, Charlie says—but I promised not to tell—”
“Well, you must not, then,” said Graeme, smiling, with just a little throb of pain at her heart, as it came home to her that now, Rose, and her hopes and fears, and little secrets belonged more to another than to her.
“Not that it is a secret, Graeme,” said her sister, eagerly.
“It is something that Charlie has very much at heart, but I am not so sure myself. But it is nothing that can be spoken about yet. Graeme, Charlie thinks there is nobody in the world quite so good as you.”
Graeme laughed.
“Except you, Rosie.”
“I am not good, Graeme, but very foolish and naughty, often, as you know. But I will try and be good, now, indeed I will.”
“My darling,” murmured Graeme, “I am so glad for you—so glad and thankful. We ought to be good. God has been very good to us all.”
Of course all this was not permitted to shorten the visit of the sisters to their old friend. Mr Millar went away rather reluctantly, alone, but the Winter had quite set in before they went home. Mrs Snow was well by that time, as well as she ever expected to be in this world, and she bade them farewell with a good hope that she might see them again.