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Milly's own private affairs in connection with a good-looking fellow, formerly a gardener at Bowness, now recently enlisted in one of the Border regiments had caused her to take a special interest in the information, and had perhaps led her to put a bunch of monthly roses on Mrs. Sarratt's dressing-table. Miss Cookson hadn't bothered herself about flowers.
Act watch-dog as much as you please. Besides we all know you have just said so that she does not believe in Sarratt's death, that she feels herself still his wife, and not his widow. That fact establishes the relation between her and me. And if the outlook changes His voice dropped to a note of pleading 'Let me, Hester! let me!
It was magnificent what he had done for his hospital; when nobody before the war had thought him capable of a stroke of practical work. Real good fellow, Farrell! Let him go in and win. His devotion, and poor Nelly's beauty, only infused a welcome local element of romance into the ever-darkening scene of war. The first anniversary of Sarratt's disappearance was over.
Three days after Sarratt's death Nelly had written to him to give him George's dying message, and to thank him on her own account for all that he had done to help her journey. The letter was phrased as Nelly could not help phrasing anything she wrote.
As it was, she passed her time during the forty-eight hours after reading Howson's letter in a silent and murderous concentration on one thought and wish George Sarratt's speedy death. What a release indeed for everybody! if people would only tell the truth, and not dress up their real feelings and interests in stale sentimentalisms.
Nothing else to say nothing else to do. George Sarratt's battalion returned to the fighting line somewhere about the middle of August. 'But we are only marking time, he wrote to his wife. 'Nothing doing here, though the casualties go on every day. However we all know in our bones there will be plenty to do soon. As for me I am more or less all right again.
A ray of mad hope stole in. She began to feed him, and as she did so, the Sister, as though she had heard Sarratt's question, came quietly in with a tray on which was some food for Nelly, and put it down beside her. Then she disappeared again. With difficulty, Sarratt swallowed a few mouthfuls of jelly and champagne.
They had just come from D Street, where Nelly had been shewn various letters and telegrams; but nothing which promised any real further clue to George Sarratt's fate. He had been seen advancing seen wounded by at least a dozen men of the regiment, and a couple of officers, all of whom had now been communicated with.
I like to see the rain shutting out everything, so that one can't make any plans or go anywhere. She smiled, but he was well aware of the fever in her look. He had not seen it there since the weeks immediately following Sarratt's departure. His heart warmed to the frail creature, tremulous as a leaf in the wind, yet making a show of courage.
That, at least, is how we now reconstruct the story. As far as Mr. Sarratt is concerned, we let it alone. We have no heart to worry him. Poor fellow poor, gallant, patient fellow! And the Sister's strong face softened, as Bridget had seen it soften at Sarratt's bedside. 'And there is really no hope for him? asked Cicely after a time. The Sister shook her head.
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