"Hark!" as the crash of a peal of bells came up. "Dear child, you
will like to rest before any fresh introductions. You shall go to
your room and have some tea there."
"Thank you."
"Charlie, call Susan.--She is my boys' old nurse, now mine. Only
tell me you have good accounts from my boy Miles."
"Oh yes;" and the hand tightly clasped the closely-written letter
for which the mother's eyes felt hungry. "He sent you his love, and
he will write to you next time. He was so busy, his first
lieutenant was down in fever."
"Where was he?"
"Off Zanzibar--otherwise the crew was healthy--the 12th of August,"
she answered, squeezing out the sentences as if constrained by the
mother's anxious gaze.
"And he was quite well when you parted with him?"
"Quite."
"Ah! you nursed my boy, and we must nurse you for him."
"Thank you, I am quite well." But she bit her lip, and spoke
constrainedly, as if too shy and reserved to give way to the rush of
emotion; but the coldness pained Mrs. Poynsett, whose expansiveness
was easily checked; and a brief silence was followed by Charlie's
return to report that he could not find nurse, and thought she was
out with the other servants, watching for the arrival; in another
moment, the approaching cheers caused him to rush out; and after
many more noises, showing the excitement of the multitude and the
advance of the bridal pair, during which Mrs.
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