"It was the year poor Ralph Bamford was taken ill. Have you never wondered where he has been since then?" As if to cover her confusion, he quickly added:
"But of course you have; your natural kindness would lead you to conjecture that far. His malady has never rendered him dangerous to those about him, hence he has remained a portion of each year with us; the rest of the time with a private family. It was through his ravings that we learned the circumstances you know so well—better than any. Since that time we have always had him with us the months when his sickness is at the worst. Once he caught a glimpse of you—the effect can readily be imagined. We have deemed it expedient to send you away to prevent similar attacks." Mr. Tracy had spoken rapidly, as if to eliminate the supposition that his hearer must be equally garrulous. Even though the young girl's feelings had not been involved in sentimentalities, such reminiscences would be painful to any endowed with the capacity of sympathizing. She was really more indifferent regarding her own situation than she was at the knowledge of pain inevitably inflicted on another by herself. The majority of girls would doubtless have preferred to evince no interest in the young man she had formerly subjugated. Far from her was the intention of affecting the anticipated lack of interest in his welfare. Even Harold and Mary would have thought the desire to avert comment justifiable; however, Adelina took the opposing course by continuing to interrogate them.
"Is he at all improved of late? Poor boy. I shall always feel that I am to blame."
"Nonsense, my dear," returned Harold. "Then nothing but the event of Ralph's recovery will restore your natural buoyancy?" Mary gave an admonitory look, in order to curb this levity, and also lest the reference to a supposititious recovery might raise hopes only to be disappointed. Mr. Tracy had spoken as if only an ordinary sickness had been at issue, as though there was no aberration of the mental functions.
"Harold, is there anything to warrant us in thinking he will ever be well again?" Adelina's question was not put as calmly as she deceived herself into believing. Harold regretted his impulsive speech, and would feign have recalled it. He cast a beseeching look at his sister to aid in extricating him from the difficulties attending his folly.
"Adelina," he said, after giving to his sister a most reproachful look for not entering the breach, "there can as yet be no certainty of Ralph's recovery. We often hope where there is nothing to warrant us in so hoping."
"You do not expect me to leave, now that I know that he is to be here so soon?" the rising inflexion alone conveying the idea of interrogation.
That an answer was expected, however, was made manifest by the girl's undisguised eagerness to learn the purport of the anticipated reply. Mary was the first to respond.
"You are no longer a child, dear, and so must judge for yourself. Would you prefer remaining?"
"I would," replied Adelina, then feeling how laconic was the answer, added, "I would because there can be no detriment to him. I shall be so careful not to agitate him." This last was said almost pleadingly.