'When your sister has read it, Miss Cookson, she will no doubt let you see it. As it happens, the post-mistress made me promise to give it to Mrs. Sarratt myself. She seemed interested--I don't know why.'
Nelly took it. Farrell--who began to have some strange misgiving--stood between her and Bridget. Bridget made no further movement. Her eyes were fixed on Nelly.
Nelly, bewildered by the little scene and by Bridget's extraordinary behaviour, tore open the brown envelope, and read slowly--'Please come at once. Have some news for you. Your sister will explain. Howson, Base Headquarters, X------, France.'
'Howson?' said Nelly. Then the colour began to ebb from her face. 'Dr. Howson?' she repeated. 'What news? What does he mean? _Oh_!'--the cry rang through the room--'_it's George_!--it's George! he's found!--he's found!'
She thrust the telegram piteously into Farrell's hands. He read it, and turned to Bridget.
'What does Dr. Howson mean, Miss Cookson, and why does he refer Mrs. Sarratt to you?'
For some seconds she could not make her pale lips reply. Finally, she said--'That's entirely my own affair, Sir William. I shall tell my sister, of course. But Nelly had better go at once, as Dr. Howson advises. I'll go and see to things.'
She turned slowly away. Nelly ran forward and caught her.
'Oh, Bridget--don't go--you mustn't go! What news is it? Bridget, tell me!--you couldn't--you _couldn't_ be so cruel--not to tell me--if you knew anything about George!'
'Oh, what can I do--what can I do?' cried Nelly.
Then her eyes fell on the letters still in her hand. She tore one open--and read it--with mingled cries of anguish and joy. Farrell dared not go near her. There seemed already a gulf between her and him.
'It's from Miss Eustace'--she said, panting, as she looked up at last, and handed the letter to him--it's George--he's alive--they've heard from France--he asks for me--but--but--he's dying.'
Her head dropped forward a little. She caught at the back of a chair, nearly fainting. But when Farrell approached her, she put up a hand in protest.
'No, no,--I'm all right. But, Bridget, Miss Eustace says--you've actually _seen_ him--you've been to France. When did you go?'
'About three weeks ago,' said Bridget, after a moment's pause. 'Oh, of course I know'--she threw back her head defiantly--'you'll all set on me--you'll all blame me. But I suppose I may be mistaken like anybody else--mayn't I? I didn't think the man I saw was George--I didn't! And what was the good of disturbing your mind?'