I do
not know whether she was older than her brother; but, probably
owing to his infirmity requiring her care, she had something of a
mother's manner towards him.
"Thurstan, you are looking pale! I do not believe you are well,
whatever you may say. Have you had the old pain in your back?"
"No--a little--never mind that, dearest Faith. Sit down here,
while I send the boy up with your box." And then, with some
little desire to show his sister how well he was acquainted with
the language, he blundered out his directions in very grammatical
Welsh; so grammatical, in fact, and so badly pronounced, that the
boy, scratching his head, made answer--
"Dim Saesoneg."
So he had to repeat it in English.
"Well, now, Thurstan, here I sit as you bid me. But don't try me
too long; tell me why you sent for me."
Now came the difficulty, and oh! for a seraph's tongue, and a
seraph's powers of representation! But there was no seraph at
hand, only the soft running waters singing a quiet tune, and
predisposing Miss Benson to listen with a soothed spirit to any
tale, not immediately involving her brother's welfare, which had
been the cause of her seeing that lovely vale.
"It is an awkward story to tell, Faith, but there is a young
woman lying ill at my lodgings whom I wanted you to nurse."
He thought he saw a shadow on his sister's face, and detected a
slight change in her voice as she spoke.
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