The room had one window looking south and another west; the latter commanded a view of the sea. General Rolleston looked down at the floor, littered with odds and ends--the dead leaves of dress that fall about a lady in the great process of packing--and then gazed through the window at the flying _Proserpine._
He sighed and lighted another cigar. Before he had half finished it he stooped down and took up a little bow of ribbon that lay on the ground and put it quietly in his bosom. In this act he was surprised by Sarah Wilson, who had come up to sweep all such waifs and strays into her own box.
"La, sir," said she, rather crossly, "why didn't you tell me, and I'd have tidied the room. It is all hugger-mugger, with miss a-leaving."
And with this she went to the washstand to begin. General Rolleston's eye followed her movements, and he observed the water in one of the basins was rather red. "What!" said he, "has she had an accident; cut her finger?"
"No, sir," said Wilson.
"Her nose been bleeding, then?"
"No, sir.
"Not from her finger--nor--? Let me look."
He examined the basin narrowly, and his countenance fell.
"Good Heavens!" said he. "I wish I had seen this before; she should not have gone to-day. Was it the agitation of parting?"
"Oh, no, sir," said Wilson; "don't go to fancy that. Why, it is not the first time by a many."
"Not the first!" faltered Rolleston. "In Heaven's name, why was I never told of this?"
"Indeed, sir," said Wilson, eagerly, "you must not blame me, sir. It was as much as my place was worth to tell you. Miss is a young lady that will be obeyed; and she gave me strict orders not to let you know. But she is gone now. And I always thought it was a pity she kept it so dark; but, as I was saying, sir, she _would_ be obeyed."
"Kept what so dark?"
"Why, sir, her spitting of blood at times; and turning so thin by what she used to be, poor dear young lady."
General Rolleston groaned aloud. "And this she hid from me; from me!" He said no more, but kept looking bewildered and helpless, first at the basin discolored by his daughter's blood, and then at the _Proserpine,_ that was carrying her away, perhaps forever; and, at the double sight, his iron features worked with cruel distress; anguish so mute and male that the woman Wilson, though not good for much, sat down and shed genuine tears of pity.
But he summoned all his fortitude, told Wilson he could not say she was to blame, she had but obeyed her mistress's orders; and we must all obey orders. "But now," said he, "it is me you ought to obey. Tell me, does any doctor attend her?"
"None ever comes here, sir. But, one day, she let fall that she went to Dr. Valentine, him that has the name for disorders of the chest."
In a very few minutes General Rolleston was at Dr. Valentine's house, and asked him bluntly what was the matter with his daughter.
"Disease of the lungs," said the doctor simply.
The unhappy father then begged the doctor to give him his real opinion as to the degree of danger; and Dr. Valentine told him, with some feeling, that the case was not desperate, but was certainly alarming.
Remonstrated with for letting the girl undertake a sea voyage, he replied rather evasively at first; that the air of Sydney disagreed with his patient, and a sea voyage was more likely to do her good than harm, provided the weather was not downright tempestuous.
"And who is to insure me against that?' asked the afflicted father.
