'My poor Polly,' smoothing her hair caressingly.
Polly sprang up.
'Oh, Heriot, how long you have been. I have been so frightened; is he—will he live?' the stammering lips not disguising the terrible anxiety.
'There is no doubt of it; but he has been very ill. No, my dear child, you need not fear I shall misunderstand you,' as Polly tried to hide her happy face, every feature quivering with the joyful relief. 'You cannot be too thankful, too glad, for he has had a narrow escape. Aunt Milly will have her hands full for some time.'
'I thought if he died that it would be my fault,' she faltered, 'and then I could not have borne it.'
'Yes—yes—I know,' he returned, soothingly; 'but now this fear is removed, you will be our Heartsease again, and cheer us all up. I cannot bear to see your bright face clouded. You will be yourself again, Polly, will you not?'
'I will try,' she returned, lifting up her face to be kissed like a child. She had never but once offered him the most timid caress, and this maidenly reserve and shyness had been sweet to him; but now he told himself it was different. Alas! he knew her better than she knew herself, and there was sadness in his looks, as he gently bade her good-night. She detained him with some surprise. 'Where are you going, Heriot? you know there is plenty of room; Richard said so.'
'I shall watch in Roy's room to-night,' he replied. 'Richard looks worn out, and Aunt Milly must recruit after her journey. I shall not leave till the middle of the day to-morrow, so we shall have plenty of time to talk. You must rest now.'
'Are you going away to-morrow?' repeated Polly, looking blank. 'I—I had hoped you would stay.'
'My child, that would be impossible; but Richard will remain for a few days longer. I will promise to come back as soon as I can.'