Harold only came back when the carriage came round, and no sooner had
we driven off than I broke out--"Harry, I had no notion matters had
gone so far. Fancy, Lady Diana consulting her brother! It must be
very near a crisis. I can't think why you did not stay to see it."
"Because I am a fool."
The horse flew on till we were nearly out at the park-gates, and a
bewildered sense of his meaning was coming before me. "You wished
it," said I rather foolishly.
"I did. I do. Only I don't want to see it."
"My poor dear Harold!"
"Pshaw!"--the sound was like a wild beast's, and made the horse
plunge--"I shall get over it."
Then, presently, in a more natural voice, "I must go out again in the
spring. There are things to be looked to at Boola Boola for both of
us. I shall only wait till Tracy is well enough to go with me."
"He! Dermot Tracy?"
"Yes. It will be the best way to break out of the old lines."
"I can fancy that. Oh, Harold! are you going to save him? That will
be the most blessed work of all!" I cried, for somehow a feeling like
an air of hope and joy came over me.
"I don't know about that," said he, in a smothered tone; but it was
getting dark enough to loose his tongue, and when I asked, "Was it
his illness that made him wish it?" he answered, "It was coming
before. Lucy, those horses have done worse for him than that wound
in his shoulder.
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