"Yes, and in the spring we intend crossing the Pyrenees; I long to see more of Spain; but, Kate, if you want me really, if, in short, illness should—that is, should the time ever come, you might want a home, Sue and myself look upon you as a daughter, write to me, at once, wherever I may be."
"Good God! Mr. Winter, do you think grandpapa so ill? do you anticipate—"
"Dear child, no, a thousand times no; but at parting I should like you to feel that it is only distance that can separate us, and that at any, and every time, I shall feel as a father towards you, and a proud father!"
"My dear, dear friend! surely God has been very gracious to me; I will not try to thank you in words, they sound so cold!"
They walked on in silence, which Winter broke, by exclaiming abruptly.
"That letter of nurse's son was most characteristic! There is some good stuff in the writer."
Then, after another pause, as if he had expected some remark from Kate.
"It is odd Egerton should send it without a line; I cannot make it out; only that letters seldom miscarry, I should say he had written a despatch himself, independent of the other; but pooh, that is highly improbable. Has Mrs. O'Toole replied to her son's epistle?"
"Yes, that is I acted as her secretary, last week; when do you think the letter will reach Dennis?"
"Oh, heaven knows, they are up the country, and, I fancy, not very settled; perhaps in two or three months."