“How good of you to call, Captain Hepburn! I saw Maurice this morning; did he tell you?” Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke.
“Could you come out with me for five minutes on the lawn?” said he, determined to speak to her without Mr. Huyton’s presence; and almost without waiting for her acquiescence, he drew the hand which he had been holding under his arm, and led her through the open window.
“Tell me truly, how is your sister now?” was his first question.
“Restless and feverish, but not worse—rather better if any thing; but to be kept quite quiet.”
“Thank Heaven! I am come to say good-by to you,” he added, in a changed voice.
She started, and exclaimed—
“Why, must you just now?”
He explained; and Sybil knew enough of the service to be aware that there was no choice in such a case. She listened quietly, but her eyes filled with tears as he spoke.
“You must go then,” said she, sorrowfully; “how we shall miss you. I suppose I ought to be glad that you are employed, but I am so selfish as to feel very, very sorry to part. We owe you so much; and when you are gone, how can we show our gratitude to you, or make you feel how we thank you every day? What can we do for you?”
“Remember me, dear Sybil; and help others, your sister above all, to remember me too. Do not let absence or time make you forget me,” said he, formality giving way before warmly excited feeling.