I did not understand Hatty's tone. She was astonished, undoubtedly so, but she was something else too, and what that was I could not tell. My Aunt Kezia listened silently. "Why, Cary, you are a heroine! I could not have believed that a timid little thing like you--" Hatty stopped. "There was nobody else," said I. "You were not well enough, you know. I had to do it; but I can assure you, Hatty, I felt like anything but a hero." "They are the heroes," said my Aunt Kezia, softly, "who feel unlike heroes, but have to do it, and go and do it therefore. Colonel Keith and Cary seem to be of that sort. And there is only one other kind of heroes--those who stand by and see their best beloved do such things, and, knowing it to be God's will, bid them God-speed with cheerful countenance, and cry their own hearts out afterwards, when no one sees them but Himself." "That is Annas' sort," said I. "Yes, and one other," replied my Aunt Kezia. "But Hatty did not know till afterwards," said I. "Child, I did not mean Hatty. Do Flora and Miss Keith look as white as you poor thin things?" "Much worse, I think," said I. "Annas keeps up, and does not shed a tear, and Flora cries her eyes out. But they are both white and sadly worn." "Poor souls!" said my Aunt Kezia. "Maybe they would like to go home with us. Do you know when they wish to go?" "Annas has been promised a hearing of Princess Caroline, to intercede for her brother," I made answer. "I think she will be ready to go as soon as that is over. There would be no good in waiting." And my voice choked a little as I remembered for what our poor Annas would otherwise wait. "Cary Courtenay, do you know you have got ten years on your head in six months?" "I feel as if I were a good deal older," I said, smiling. "You are the elder of the two now," said my Aunt Kezia, drily. "Not but what Hatty has been through the kiln too; but it has softened her, and hardened you." "Then Hatty is gold, and I am only clay," I said, and I could not help laughing a little, though I have not laughed much lately. "There is some porcelain sells for its weight in gold," said my Aunt Kezia. "Thank you for the compliment, Aunt Kezia." "Nay, lass, I'm a poor hand at compliments; but I know gold when I see it--and brass, too. You'll be home in good time for Sophy's wedding." "Aunt Kezia, who does Sophy marry?" "Mr Liversedge, the Rector." "Is not he rather rough?" "Rough? Not a bit of it. He is a rough diamond, if he be." "I fancied from what Sam said when he came back to Carlisle--" "Oh, we had seen nought of him then. He has done more good at Brocklebank than Mr Digby did all the years he was there. You'll see fast enough when you get back. 'Tis the nature of the sun to shine." "What do you mean by that, Aunt Kezia?"