"Mamma," murmured Lady Lothwell who was furtively regarding Robin also--and it must be confessed with a dewy eye--"I suppose it is because I have Kathryn--but I feel a sort of pull at my heart when I remember how the little thing _bloomed_ only a few months ago! She was radiant with life and joy and youngness. It's the contrast that almost frightens one. Something has actually gone. Does Doctor Redcliff think--_Could_ she be going to die? Somehow," with a tremulous breath, "one always thinks of death now." "No! No!" the Duchess answered. "Dr. Redcliff says she is not in real danger. Nourishment and relaxed strain and quiet will supply what she needs. But I will ask you, Millicent, to explain to people. I am too tired to answer questions. I realise that I have actually begun to love the child and I don't want to hear amiable people continuously suggesting the probability that she is in galloping consumption--and proposing remedies." "Will she go soon?" Lady Lothwell asked. "As soon as Dr. Redcliff has decided between two heavenly little places--one in Scotland and one in Wales. Perhaps next week or a week later. Things must be prepared for her comfort." Lady Lothwell went home and talked a little to Kathryn who listened with sympathetic intelligence. "It would have been better not to have noticed her poor little wrists," she said. "Years ago I believe that telling people that they looked ill and asking anxiously about their symptoms was regarded as a form of affection and politeness, but it isn't done at all now." "I know, mamma!" Kathryn returned remorsefully. "But somehow there was something so pathetic in her little thin hand writing so fast--and the way her eyelashes lay on a sort of hollow of shadow instead of a soft cheek-- I took it in suddenly all at once-- And I almost burst out crying without intending to do it. Oh, mamma!" throwing out her hand to clutch her mother's, "Since--since George--! I seem to cry so suddenly! Don't--don't you?" "Yes--yes!" as they slipped into each other's arms. "We all do--everybody--everybody!" Their weeping was not loud but soft. Kathryn's girl voice had a low violin-string wail in it and was infinitely touching in its innocent love and pity. "It's because one feels as if it _couldn't_ be true--as if he _must_ be somewhere! George--good nice George. So good looking and happy and silly and dear! And we played and fought together when we were children. Oh! To _kill_ George--George!" When they sat upright again with wet eyes and faces Kathryn added, "And he was only _one_! And that beautiful Donal Muir who danced with Robin at Grandmamma's party! And people actually _stared_ at them, they looked so happy and beautiful." She paused and thought a moment. "Do you know, mamma, I couldn't help believing he would fall in love with her if he saw her often--and I wondered what Lord Coombe would think. But he never did see her again. And now--! You know what they said about--not even _finding_ him!"