"Stop here,
Souchey, and I will go to her," Nina said. "Do not leave him till I
return. I will not be long." She would not have let a dog go without a
word that had come from Anton's house or from Anton's presence. Perhaps
he had written to her. If there were but a line to say, "Pardon me; I
was wrong," everything might yet be right. But Ruth Jacobi was the
bearer of no note from Anton, nor indeed had she come on her present
message with her uncle's knowledge. She had put a heavy basket on the
table, and now, running forward, took Nina by the hands, and kissed
her.
"We have been so sorry, all of us, to hear of your father's illness,"
said Ruth.
"Father is very ill," said Nina. "He is dying."
"Nay, Nina; it may be that he is not dying. Life and death both are in
the hands of God."
"Yes; it is in God's hands of course; but the doctor says that he will
die."
"The doctors have no right to speak in that way," said Ruth, "for how
can they know God's pleasure? It may be that he will recover."
"Yes; it may be," said Nina.
Pages:
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300