“How did he bear it?”
“We don’t know; we were afraid to follow him into the room.”
She turned towards the window as she spoke. Teresa was sitting there—vacantly looking out. Mr. Gallilee spoke to her kindly: she made no answer; she never even moved. “Worn out!” Miss Minerva whispered to him. “When she thinks of Carmina now, she thinks without hope.”
He shuddered. The expression of his own fear was in those words—and he shrank from it. Miss Minerva took his hand, and led him to a chair. “Ovid will know best,” she reminded him; “let us wait for what Ovid will say.”
“Did you meet him on board the vessel?” Mr. Gallilee asked.
“Yes.”
“How did he look?”
“So well and so strong that you would hardly have known him again—till he asked about Carmina. Then he turned pale. I knew that I must tell him the truth—but I was afraid to take it entirely on myself. Something Mr. Null said to me, before I left London, suggested that I might help Ovid to understand me if I took the prescriptions to Queenstown. I had not noticed that they were signed by Doctor Benjulia, as well as by Mr. Null. Don’t ask me what effect the discovery had on him! I bore it at the time—I can’t speak of it now.”
“You good creature! you dear good creature! Forgive me if I have distressed you; I didn’t meant it.”
“You have not distressed me. Is there anything else I can tell you?”