Rachel asked about poor Lord Keith, and was told that he was to be left

in quiet that night, unless his wife should be very anxious for him at

once. Mr. Harvey came down, bringing word that his patient was asking

urgently for Mrs. Keith.

"You had better let me go in first," said Alick, his face changed by the

firm but tender awe-struck look.

"Not if she is asking for me," said Rachel, moving on, her heart feeling

as if it would rend asunder, but her looks composed.

Bessie's face was in shade, but her voice had the old ring of coaxing

archness. "I thought you would stay to see the doctors off. They had

their revenge for our stealing a march on them, and have prowled about

me till I was quite faint; and now I don't feel a bit like sleep, though

I am so tired. Would Alick think me very wicked if I kept you a little

while? Don't I see Alick's shadow? Dear old fellow, are you come to wish

me good-night? That is good of you. I am not going to plague you any

more, Alick, I shall be so good now! But what?" as he held back the

curtain, and the light fell on his face, "Oh! there is nothing wrong

with the baby?"

"No, dear Bessie, not with the baby," said Alick, with strong emphasis.

"What, myself?" she said quickly, turning her eyes from one face to the

other.

Alick told her the state of the case. Hers was a resolute character, or

perhaps the double nature that had perplexed and chafed her brother was

so integral that nothing could put it off. She fully comprehended, but

as if she and herself were two separate persons. She asked how much time

might be left to her, and hearing the doctor's opinion, said, "Then I

think my poor old Lord Keith had better have his night's rest in

peace. But, oh! I should like to speak to Colin. Send for him, Alick;

telegraph, Alick; he is at the Paddington Hotel. Send directly."

She was only tranquillised by her brother beginning to write a

telegraphic message.

"Rachel," she said, presently, "Ermine must marry him now, and see to

Lord Keith, and the little one--tell her so, please," then with her

unfailing courtesy, "he will seem like your own child, dear Rachel, and

you should have him; but you'll have a wandering home with the dear

old Highlanders. Oh! I wonder if he will ever go into them, there must

always be a Keith there, and they say he is sure of the Victoria Cross,

though papa will not send up his name because of being his own son."

Then passing her hand over her face, she exclaimed--"Wasn't I talking

great nonsense, Rachel? I don't seem able to say what I mean."




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