"
"Don't you sleep at all?" Scott asked gently.
The colour was fading from her face; it returned at his question. "Oh
yes, any time. It doesn't matter for me. I am so strong. And I can
sleep--afterwards."
He looked down at the thin little hand he still held. "You mustn't wear
yourself out, Dinah," he said.
Her lip quivered suddenly, "What does it matter?" she said. "I've nothing
else to live for."
"I don't think we can any of us say that," he answered. "There is always
something left."
She turned her face and looked over the sea. "I'm sure I don't know
what," she said, with a catch in her voice. "If--Isabel--were going to
live, if--if I could only have her always, I should be quite happy. I
shouldn't want anything else. But without her--life without her--after
these two months,--" her voice broke and ceased.
"I know," Scott said. "I should have felt the same myself not so long
ago. I have let you slip into my place, you see; and it comes hard on you
now. But don't forget our friendship, Dinah! Don't forget I'm here!"
She turned back, swallowing her tears with difficulty and gave him a
quivering smile. "Oh, I know. You are so good. And it was dear of you
to--to let me take your place with her. None but you would have done such
a thing."
"My dear, it was far better for her, and she wished it," he interposed.
"Besides, with Eustace away, I had plenty to do.
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