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"Do not stir. Your head is badly cut, an' it bleeds still," says Mona, with a shoulder. "I cannot stop it. Oh, what shall I do?" "We all have regrets at times, dear boy, the very best of us," says the little doctor, blowing his nose: "who among us is faultless? And really the circumstances were very trying for you,—very—eh? Yes, of course one understands, you know; but death heals all divisions, and he is hurrying to his last account, poor lad, all too soon." But to Geoffrey—lest the telling should cause him unhappiness—she had said nothing of her discovery; only when the morning came that saw him depart upon his mission (now so well understood by her), she had kissed him, and told him to "hurry, hurry, hurry back to her," with a little sob between each word. And when he was gone she had breathed an earnest prayer, poor child, that all might yet be well, and then told herself that, no matter what came, she would at least be a faithful, loving wife to him..
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"Thank ye, miss. Ye mane it kindly, I know," says the woman, wearily. "But the big world is too small to hold one dhrop of comfort for me. He's dead, ye see!" "I hope she has, poor soul: she will want it," says Geoffrey, feelingly; and then he falls to whistling the "Two Obadiahs" softly, yet with a relish, beneath his breath. HOW THE THUNDER PIPE CAME "Well?" says Sir Nicholas, as a deadly silence continues for some time after their departure, "what do you think of her?".
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