"You are safe to think that."
"My clothes are not like theirs," said Vesty quietly, when we came at night more and more into the throngs of civilized life. "Do you mind? I knew that I should not be dressed like them."
"In my country high ladies wear what they will."
She gave a low, perplexed laugh, looking at me with curious sorrow for my hallucinations.
"But I am only Vesty."
"Surely. But you remind me so of a lady."
At least Vesty travelled as a princess might. I brought her the long and devious journey swiftly, with as little fatigue as possible: but it was late at night when we mounted the steps of the Garrison town residence; the house was all alight.
Mrs. Garrison brushed past the servant at the door.
"Vesty Rafe! I knew it was you. I knew you would come, somehow, child." She drew her in, and fell on her neck, weeping.
"He is dying?" murmured Vesty then, with cold lips.