"The heir to Castle Wafer, Frederick."
"Oh--he," slightingly returned Mrs. St. John, and she relapsed into apathy.
"How long shall you remain at Belport, Charlotte?" asked Rose, speaking softly, not to awaken the child.
"I don't know yet; I shall see how the place suits George. Do you happen to know of a good sick-nurse here, Rose--English? I hear they abound."
"I know of one," said Rose, rather eagerly. "And she is excellent in these cases of--of----" Rose caught back the ominous word she had so nearly uttered--consumption; substituting one for it, however, that proved little better--"of wasting away. It is her spécialité."
"Who says he is wasting away? Who says it?"
"Nay," said Rose, "I only thought it, seeing him so thin. I dare say it's natural to children to be thin. She is a most excellent nurse, Charlotte; a Mrs. Brayford. I saw her several times in the spring, when she was nursing Adeline de Castella."
"What was her complaint?"
"They feared she was going into a decline. Mrs. Brayford nursed her into perfect health, and she is as strong and well now as I am. I should think she would be the very nurse to suit you, and she is a pleasant sort of woman."
"Where can I find her?"