said, to doubt whether she could live in this out-of-the-world place
much longer. She liked it -- oh yes, she liked it -- but he feared the
solitude was telling upon her nerves. Mrs. Abbott admitted that there
might be something in this.

'Should you return to London?' she asked.

Whereupon Harvey stared before him, and looked troubled, and could only
answer that he did not know.

When, two days after, the promised letter came from Mrs. Abbott, Harvey
took it up to the invalid's room, and sat by her whilst she read it.

'She writes so nicely,' said Alma, who never in her life had showed such
sweetness of disposition as during this convalescence. 'Read it for
yourself, Harvey. Isn't it a nice letter? I feel so sorry we haven't
known each other before. But we're going to be friends now.'

'I'm sure I'm very glad.'

'Nothing from Mamma? I almost think I could write to her to-day. Of
course, she'll fall into a dreadful state of mind, and want to know why
she wasn't sent for, and lament over -- everything. But it's no use her
coming here now. When we go away we must manage to see her.'

'Yes. Have you thought where you would like to go?'

'Not yet. There's plenty of time.'

Not a word had passed between them with reference to the perilous drive.