"I don't know--he didn't say. I don't believe many days."
Hugh was silent a little while she was putting away the stand and the oyster-shells. Then she came and sat down by him.
"You have burnt yourself over those things," said he sorrowfully;--"you -shouldn't have done it. It is not right."
"Dear Hugh," said Fleda lightly, laying her head on his shoulder,--"I like to burn myself for you."
"That's just the way you have been doing all your life."
"Hush!" she said softly.
"It is true,--for me and for everybody else. It is time you were taken better care of, dear Fleda."
"Don't, dear Hugh!"
"I am right though," said he. "You are pale and worn now with waiting upon me and thinking of me. It is time you were gone. But I think it is well I am going too, for what should I do in the world without you, Fleda?"
Fleda was crying now, intensely though quietly; but Hugh went on with feeling as calm as it was deep.