Hilary looked uneasy; ever since the one great shock she had received, her nerves were as easily agitated as a compass-needle, and though like it, too equally balanced to be moved from the center of rest, still they
“Turned at the touch of joy or woe,
And turning, trembled too.”
“It is perhaps some messenger come to fetch Maurice,” said the quick-witted Nest, who saw that her sister was uneasy; “for he is certainly coming here.”
As she spoke the sounds approached quite close, and in another minute they had stopped at the gate. The sisters ran out, and threw open the door; a stranger was there, who advanced, and touched his cap to the ladies.
“Please, madam, I bring a note from the captain, and am to take back an answer.”
“Nothing the matter?” asked Hilary, breathless, scanning the messenger’s countenance, as she took the note.
“Nothing with the captain,” was the answer.
And Hilary, retreating to the light, opened the twisted paper and read—
“Dear Hilary—