Her
eyes were wet. She had tried to keep away, but something drew her
irresistibly. Her heart swelled. If only she might touch his bowed
head, aye, kiss the touches of grey at the temples; if only she might
console him in this hour of darkness and grief. Poor boy, poor boy!
She knew not how long she watched him; it might have been minutes or
hours; she was without recollection of time. A hand touched her gently
on the arm. Kate stood by her side.
"Come," she whispered; "come, Patty."
Patty turned without question or remonstrance and followed her up
stairs.
"Kate, dear Kate!"
"What is it, darling?"
"He is all alone!"
At midnight John tiptoed into the music-room. Warrington had not
moved. John tapped him on the shoulder.
"You mustn't stay here, old man. Come to bed."
Warrington stood up.
"Would you like a drop of brandy?"
Warrington shook his head.
"It is terribly hard," said John, throwing his arm across the other's
shoulders. "I know; I understand. You are recalling all the mistakes,
all the broken promises, all the disappointments. That is but natural.
But in a few days all the little acts of kindness will return to your
memory; all the good times you two have had together, the thousand
little benefits that made her last days pleasant.
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