Mrs. Abbott was on no account to cut short her visit, and Harvey was to
do his duty as host. She herself, said Mrs. Rolfe, would be as well as
ever in a day or two.

For all that, when the appointed day for the guest's departure came,
Alma still lay blanched and feeble, not likely to leave her bed for
another week. She was, however, in a remarkably cheerful frame of mind.
Having to start on her journey as early as half-past eight, Mrs. Abbott
bade good-bye to her hostess the evening before, and nothing could have
been kinder or more amiable than Alma's behaviour.

'Don't bear a grudge against me for spoiling your holiday,' she said,
holding her guest's hand and smiling brightly. 'If I say all is for the
best, perhaps you'll understand me, and perhaps you won't; it sounds
pious at all events, doesn't it? We must see each other again, you know
-- here or somewhere else. I'm quite sure we can be friends. Of course,
Harvey will go with you in the morning.'

Mrs. Abbott begged he would do nothing of the kind, but Alma was
imperative.

'Of course he will! If it rains, a covered carriage will be here in
time. And write to me -- mind you write to me; not only to say you've
got safe home, but in future. You promise?'

In the morning it did rain, and heavily, so Harvey and his friend drove
to the station shut up together, with scarce a glimpse of anything
beyond the boulder walls and gorse hedges and dripping larch-trees. They
spoke a good deal of Alma. As soon as she was well again, said Rolfe, he
must take her for a thorough change. In truth, he was beginning, he