"If he ever did, I was too vexed to answer him. He will be
very happy, Laura. His wife is a meek, amiable woman, in spite of her
formidable height."
"And now I want you to tell me one thing--How was it that Edward could
not be saved?"
For a moment Lady Hartledon did not understand, and turned her eyes on
the boy.
"I mean my brother, Anne. When news came out to India that he had died in
that shocking manner, following upon poor George--I don't care now to
recall how I felt. Was there _no_ one at hand to save him?"
"No one. A sad fatality seemed to attend it altogether. Val regrets his
brother bitterly to this day."
"And that poor Willy Gum was killed at sea, after all!"
"Yes," said Anne, shortly. "When you spoke of Edward," returning to the
other subject, "I thought you meant the boy."
Lady Laura shook her head. "He will never get well, Anne. Death is
written on his face."
"You would say so, if you saw him some days. He is excitable, and your
coming has roused him. I never saw any one fluctuate so; one day dying,
the next better again. For myself I have very little hope, and Mr.
Hillary has none; but I dare not say so to Margaret and the dowager."
"Why not?"
"It makes them angry. They cannot bear to hear there's a possibility of
his death. Margaret may see the danger, but I don't believe the dowager
does."
"Their wishes must blind them," observed Lady Laura.
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