"Yes—how is she? Is she coming back here?"
"Is it likely? Besides, she can't be moved."
"Oh—it's as bad as that!"
"My dear mamma, haven't I told you fifty times?" This was not exactly the case; but it passed, in conversation. "The darling old thing was all but killed by being told...."
"By being told?... Oh yes, I remember! They were sisters, in Van Diemen's Land.... But she's better again now?"
"Yes—better. Oh, here's Starfield, and there's papa in his room. I can hear him. I must go."
At dinner that evening nobody was in any way new or remarkable, unless indeed Sir Spencer and Lady Derrick, who had been in Canada, counted. There was one guest, not new, but of interest to Gwen. Do you happen to remember General Rawnsley, who was at the Towers in July, when Adrian had his gunshot accident? It was he who was nearly killed by a Mahratta, at Assaye, when he was a young lieutenant. Gwen had issued orders that he should take her in to dinner, when she heard on her arrival that he had accepted her mother's invitation for Christmas.
Consider dinner despatched—the word is suitable, for an approach to haste was countenanced or tolerated, in consideration of the household's festivity elsewhere—and so much talking going on that the old General could say to Gwen without fear of being overheard:—"Now tell me some more about your fellow.... Adrian, isn't he?... He is your fellow, isn't he?—no compliments necessary?"
"He's my fellow, General, to you and all my dear friends. You saw him in July, I think?"
"Just saw him—just saw him! Hardly spoke to him—only a word or two. Your father took me in to see him, because I was in love with his great-grandmother, once upon a time."