"How can I find it in my heart to leave you just now?" he said the next morning, when he had walked up from his hotel to spend an hour or two with her. Perhaps her deep mourning made her seem so thin and pale; but there was certainly a wasted look about her, as though she had passed through a long illness.
"But you must leave me," she replied gently. "You are wanted at Warstdale; and then Langley needs you. I will not have you neglect your duties for me; you have been here already ten days, have you not?"
"Yes; but Langley has Cathy, and you are all alone," he remonstrated. "Dear Queenie, could you not rouse yourself and come back with me? and we would all nurse you well again."
She shook her head sadly.
"No, no; Cathy has enough on her hands, you do not want another invalid at Church-Stile House; besides, I am not fit to travel just now, Dr. Bennet said so only yesterday. He told me I must have quiet and rest."
"You know he and his wife have offered to take care of you. What good Samaritans they are!"
"Yes, indeed, they are everything that is kind; but, Garth," hesitating shyly over his name, "you will not ask me to do that. They are very good, dear people, but they are comparative strangers. I could not bear to leave this place; I am only just fit to lie and look at the sea all day, and think of you and Emmie."
"I know it will be bad for you; but I don't see what else is to be done," he returned despondingly. "Warstdale won't do without me; but I shall not have a moment's peace until I have you safely in my own keeping. Will you promise to be well in a fortnight, if I come back and fetch you?"
"A fortnight is too short a time, I shall hardly be strong then," with a sigh of mental and bodily weakness that was sad to hear.
Dear as his presence was to her, and sweet the knowledge of their mutual love, it taxed her over-wrought strength sorely to sit and talk to him.