you at all unless you and my father could come out.  Am I nourishing too wild a hope in thinking it possible?  Since Lucy has been so kind as to promise never to leave grandmamma, I cannot help hoping you might be spared.  I do not think my proposal is selfish, since my poor grandmother is so little conscious of your cares; and Ferrars insists on remaining with me till he sees me in your hands, though they say that the splinter must be extracted in London, and every week he remains here is so much suffering, besides delaying his expedition to Canada.  I have entreated him to hasten on, but he will not hear of it.  He is like a brother or a father to me, and nurses me most tenderly, when he ought to be nursed himself.  We are famishing for letters.  I suppose all ours have gone up to Balaklava, and thence will be sent to England.  If we were but there!  We are both much better for the quiet of these two days, and are to move to-morrow to a lodging that a friend of Fred’s has taken for us at Bormola, so as to be out of the Babel of these streets—­we stipulated that it should be large enough to take in you and my father.  I wish Sophy and the children would come too—­it would do them all the good in the world; and Maurice would go crazy among the big guns; I am only afraid we should have him enlisting as a drummer.  The happy pair would be very glad to have the house to themselves, and would persuade themselves that it was another honeymoon.

’Good-bye.  Instead of looking for a letter, I shall come down to meet you at the Quarantine harbour.  Love to all.

’Your most affectionate
‘GILBERT KENDAL.’

How differently Gilbert wrote when really ill, from his desponding style when he only fancied himself so, thought Albinia, as, perplexed and grieved, she handed the letter to her husband, and opened the enclosure, written in the laboured, ill-formed characters of a left-hand not yet accustomed to doing the offices of both.

’Dear Albinia,

’Come, if possible.  His heart is set upon it, though he does not realize his condition, and I cannot bear to tell him.  Only the utmost care can save him.  I am doing my best for him, but my nursing is as left-handed as my writing.

’Ever yours,
‘F.F.’

His wife’s look of horror was Mr. Kendal’s preparation for this emphatic summons, perhaps a shock less sudden to him than to her, for he had not been without misgivings ever since he had heard of the situation of the injury.  He read and spoke not, till the silence became intolerable, and she burst out almost with a scream, ’Oh!  Edmund, I knew not what I did when I took grandmamma into this house!’

‘This is very perplexing,’ he said, his feelings so intense that he dared only speak of acting; ‘I must set out to-night.’

‘Order me to come with you,’ she said breathlessly.  ’That will cancel everything else.’

‘Would Mrs. Drury take charge of her aunt?’ said he, with a moment’s hesitation; and Albinia felt it implied his impression that they were bound by her repeated promises never to quit the invalid, but she only spoke the more vehemently—­