"
"Will it not be too much? Can you?" he said very low; and there was
the same repressed twitching of the muscles of his face, as Kate had
seen when he was left with his sister Jane.
"Oh yes!" she said fervently; "I shall like it. And it is her only
chance; you see she goes to-morrow."
The carriage was ordered again, and Mrs. Umfraville explained to Kate
that the note was from a poor invalid lady whose son was in their own
regiment in India, that she was longing to hear about him, and was
going out of town the next day.
"And what shall I give you to amuse yourself with, my dear?" asked
Mrs. Umfraville. "I am afraid we have hardly a book that will suit
you."
Kate had a great mind to ask to go and sit in the carriage, rather
than remain alone with the terrible black moustache; but she was
afraid of the Colonel's mentioning Aunt Barbara's orders that she was
not to be let out of sight. "If you please," she said, "if I might
write to Sylvia."
Her aunt kindly established her at a little table, with a leathern
writing-case, and her uncle mended a pen for her. Then her aunt went
away, and he sat down to his own letters.
Kate durst not speak to him, but she watched him under her eyelashes,
and noticed how he presently laid down his pen, and gave a long,
heavy, sad sigh, such as she had never heard when his wife was
present; then sat musing, looking fixedly at the grey window; till,
rousing himself with another such sigh, he seemed to force himself to
go on writing, but paused again, as if he were so wearied and
oppressed that he could hardly bear it.
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