seemed to add poignancy to the other; and between the two
facts, that Thorold loved me, and that he was gone from me
into what might be a duty of danger, - that he was gone into
danger and that he loved me, - for a little while my soul was
tossed back and forth like a ship on a stormy sea, unable to
make any headway at all. And so Miss Cardigan found me. She
half lifted half drew me up, I remember; made me lie down
again on the sofa, gave me some hot tea to drink; and when she
had made me drink it, she sat still looking at me, silent, and
I thought a good deal disturbed. It would be difficult to tell
why I thought so. Perhaps it was because she said nothing. I
lay quiet with my face hid in my hands.

"What do you think to do with yourself to-day, now?" - was at
last her practical question.

"What o'clock is it?" I whispered.

"It's just on the stroke of six, Daisy."

"I'll get up and go on with my work," I said; and I raised
myself to a sitting posture accordingly.

"Work!" echoed Miss Cardigan. "You look like much of that!
Your cheeks" (and she touched them) "they are the colour of my
magnolia there that has just opened. A night's work Christian
has made of it! I suppose he is travelling off as content as
if he had something to praise himself for. The pride of these
men! -"