"In my papers of the past week the beginning of what concerned Notely Garrison was a medley. 'Reformer,' 'The old never-heeded cry of a St. John in the wilderness,' and again, from the other side, 'Fanatic,' 'Visionary,' 'Throwing out his by no means boundless wealth like water for the sake of chimeras, ideally noble enough, but still vain chimeras!' And the news at the week's end, 'Young Garrison stricken: a shock. Overwork, over-excitement, and the result of an accident suffered not long since. Recovery very doubtful.'"
"I want to go to him," said Vesty. I heard her breath coming painfully and quick.
"I knew that. I have already made arrangements for you to leave early in the morning."
"Just to see him. I promised him. Notely! Notely! I can't bear it—just as though it was little Gurd."
"You shall see him by to-morrow night. I have sent a messenger to make special arrangements for conveyance, in case you should desire this."
"Major Henry, I forgot. I cannot; I have no money."
"Ah, but you can and must. It is arranged."
"And I do not know the way. I was never from the Basin."
"I am going with you. In my country high ladies travel with a servant, thus. Get what rest you can and be ready at four. They will take good care of little Gurd while you are gone."
"Some time," said Vesty, on the morrow, "when Gurd is a little older, and I can take him away somewhere where I can earn wages, I can pay you, Major Henry. They want me now—his mother wants me, somehow, I know."