“He sleeps, sir,” says she, still very formal. “He has had but an ill night, and once I feared he was near to death. But he is now asleep, and I have left Priscilla watching by him for awhile.”
By this time we stood over against the window, and I saw that her face was pale with watching, and that much anxiety was on it. She looked without, and something in the grey skies and dark fields made her shiver and draw the cloak about her shoulders closer together.
“You are weary, cousin,” says I. “Will you not seat yourself in this chair?”
She looked at the chair and at me, but made no offer to take it.
“I was going downstairs,” says she, meditatively, “but——”
“Why,” says I, innocent enough to all outward seeming, “I have dismissed John and Humphrey for a brief rest, and it would not be amiss to have some one here besides myself, so that if there is need, we can give alarm without leaving the post. With the dawn,” says I, “they will no doubt commence operations against us.”
“I will remain in that case,” she answers, and sat her down in the chair that I had just left “We must all do our part to defend the house,” she says, more to herself than to me.
“Aye,” says I.
After that we were for some moments very silent. For my part, I leaned against the wall watching her. After a time she looked at me gravely.
“How long will this continue, think you?” she says. “Will it be for some time, or shall we be relieved speedily?”