He asked if she were quite content at Aylfleet; if everything was being done for her comfort that could be done. Did she want books, work, games, a kitten?—there were some charming kittens in a basket at Normansgrave.
On that the grave lips smiled, and revealed a row of small milky teeth—teeth which Levy had believed to be unique in the profession for which Rona had been destined. Yes, she would like a kitten. She liked books, too. Yes, she liked to be read aloud to. They had often had books read to them in the Convent School. She felt better; they were very kind. There was only one thing—she wanted to see her brother, David Smith.
Denzil explained. David had gone to Basingstoke with the barge. They had told him she could not be moved for some days. Complete rest was necessary for the complaint from which she suffered. No doubt she would hear from him soon. Would she tell them how her accident happened?
She said, quite simply and without embarrassment, that she did not know how much David would wish her to say. Bursting with curiosity, Denzil had to curb it and ask no more. His imagination had never been so piqued. His heart was on fire when he took leave, having promised to come the following day and bring an interesting book and read aloud to her.
On the way home he could talk of nothing else but the mysterious unknown.
His aunt agreed that it was ridiculous to suppose her a member of the lower classes. There was a mystery somewhere. They would find out when the young man appeared. In her inmost heart Miss Rawson was highly amused. Who would have thought of the sober-minded Denzil being thus suddenly moved out of his ordinary groove? She thought it would do him no harm, and with twinkling eyes saw him depart next morning with Shirley in his pocket and hurry down through the grounds, the short way to Aylfleet.
Meanwhile, Rona had received a letter. It was written in a very labored hand, more like printing than writing, and dated simply Basingstoke. Thus it ran:
"Private.—Not to be shown to anybody.
"MY DEAR RONA,—I am tormenting myself with the idea that you might think I had deserted you. Indeed, that is not so. The lady that took you away did not ask my leave. And I knew it was the only hope for you. The people about the wharf at Dunhythe say that Miss Rawson is kind. So I hope they are being good to you.
"You were too ill for me to explain anything to you.