"Why not?"
"When a person's spirits begin to get homesick for a higher existence, usually they soon drift quietly away where they long to be."
Another day she told me how much Mrs. Blake had done for me, nursing me with a skill and patience that drew high praise from the dignified city physician accustomed to skilled nurses. Mr. Winthrop used to come and go, watching her closely, and one day he said:—
"No matter what happens, Mrs. Blake's future will be attended to."
Then I asked the question that had been troubling me ever since I had been getting better.
"Why do I never see or hear anything from Mr. Winthrop? you say he has forgiven me; but he has not so much as sent me a message, or flower since I came to myself."
"Why, Medoline, did you not know?"
"Know what?" I asked, interrupting her, "has he gone away with Mrs. Le Grande?" I had forgotten for the moment that Mrs. Le Grande was even weaker than myself.
"Oh, no, indeed; marriage has been one of her least anxieties of late. Mr. Winthrop is in London before this: I am looking for letters now every day."
"Has he gone to Europe?"