"It's a new thing for her to be so anxious about me," I exclaimed, impatiently. "I was sick a month last summer at school, and she never suggested the idea of coming on to see me." "Be that as it may, her anxiety at present knows no bounds, and I have in vain rendered the most elaborate accounts of your state, and in all ways endeavored to weaken her fears. This very afternoon I received another letter, more decided than the last in its request, that if you were able to be moved, you might be brought on immediately; if not, she would at once start for this place, and my answer was to be instantly communicated to her by telegraph." "You have sent it?" "Yes, three hours ago," he answered, looking at me attentively. "Well, what did you tell her?" "That we should start to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock." I struggled hard to keep up, under the unexpected blow, and answered, as I bit my lip and choked down the tears: "Very well, sir, I will try to be ready in time." "The doctor says it will be perfectly safe," continued Mr. Rutledge, quietly. "And there is no appeal from his opinion," I interrupted, tartly. "I am so much better myself," he went on, as if he had not heard me, "that there is no imprudence in my attempting it; and I can see no objection to complying with your aunt's request immediately. Indeed, I feel that I could not do otherwise." His indifferent way of speaking of what to me was such a vital matter, roused my pride less than it wounded my sensitiveness, and I had much ado to master myself enough to say: "If you had had the goodness to tell me before, I need not have wasted this evening, but could have spent it in packing." "You cannot have much to do, I am sure. Kitty can pack everything in the morning, and I thought it was best not to worry you by telling you of it before." "I must go up immediately, however," I said, rising. "I cannot let you go yet," he said, detaining me. "Do you remember this is the last evening you are to spend at Rutledge?" "And what of that?" "You ought to be sorry." I shrugged my shoulders, and said, it was a pity I could not gratify his taste for the pathetic. "Ah, nonsense, child!" he said, with a sudden change of manner, "we have so little time left, it's foolish to waste any of it in idle pretences. You may as well cry; I know you are sorry enough, I know you can hardly keep back your tears." That broke down all my self-control; burying my face in my hands, I burst into a passion of tears. There was no use in attempting to command myself, and indeed I never thought of it. Mr. Rutledge took my hand, and attempted to draw it away from my face, then suddenly relinquishing it, walked rapidly once or twice across the room, returned, and sat down by me.