can,
but you must not be anxious if there is delay. As far as I can judge it
will be a big thing. You may be sure I shall take all the precautions
possible. God bless you, darling. Your letters are _everything_.'

Nelly read the letter and the newspaper, her hands trembling as she held
it. At breakfast, Bridget eyed her uncomfortably.

'He'll be all right!' she said with harsh decision. 'Don't fret.'

The day passed, with heavy heat mists over the Lake, the fells and the
woods blotted out. On pretence of sketching, Nelly spent the hours on
the side of Loughrigg, trying sometimes to draw or sew, but for the most
part, lying with shut eyes, hidden among the bracken. Her faculty for
dreaming awake--for a kind of visualisation sharper than most people
possess--had been much developed since George's departure. It partly
tormented, partly soothed her.

Night came without news. 'I _can't_ hear till to-morrow night,' she
thought, and lay still all night patient and sleepless, her little hands
crossed on her breast. The window was wide open and she could see the
stars peering over Loughrigg.

Next morning, fresh columns in the newspaper. The action was still going
on. She must wait. And somehow it was easier to wait this second day;
she felt more cheerful. Was there some secret voice telling her that if
he were dead, she would have heard?

After lunch she set out to take some of the Carton flowers to the
farmer's wife living in a fold of the fell, who had lost her only son in
the July fighting. Hester Martin had guided her there one day, and some
fellow-feeling had established itself rapidly between Nelly, and the
sad, dignified woman, whose duties went on as usual while all that gave
them zest had departed.

The distance was short, and she left exact word where she could be
found. As she climbed the narrow lane leading to the farm, she presently
heard a motor approaching. The walls enclosing the lane left barely room
to pass. She could only scramble hurriedly up a rock which had been
built into the wall, and hold on to a young tree growing from it. The
motor which was large and luxurious passed slowly, and in the car she
saw two young men, one pale and sickly-looking, wrapped in a great-coat
though the day was stuffily warm: the other, the driver, a tall and
stalwart fellow, who threw Nelly a cold, unfriendly look as they went
by. Who could they be? The road only led to the farm, and when Nelly had
last visited Mrs. Gr