ying in her friendly, low voice: "Mr.
Kendrick, I'm sorry--sorry!"
He looked long and hungrily into her face, holding her hands with such a
fierce grasp that he hurt her cruelly, though she made no sign. He did
not even thank her--only held her until every detail of her face had
been studied. She let him do it, and only dropped her eyes and stood
colouring warmly under the inquisition. It was as if she understood that
the sight of her was a moment's sedative for an aching heart, and she
must yield it or be more unkind than it was in the heart of woman to be.
When he released her it was with a sigh that came up from the depths,
and as she left him he stood and watched her until she was out of sight.
* * * * *
When Matthew Kendrick opened his eyes at ten o'clock on the morning
after his fall the first thing they rested upon was the face he loved
best in the world. It came instantly nearer, the eyes meeting his
imploringly, as if begging him to speak. So with some little effort he
did speak. "Well, Dick," he said slowly, "I'm glad you came, boy. I
wanted you; I didn't know but I was about getting through. But--I
believe I'm still here, after all."
Then he saw a strange sight. Great tears leaped into the eyes he was
looking at, tears that rolled unheeded down the fresh-coloured cheeks of
his boy. Richard tried to speak, but could not. He could only gently
grasp his grandfather's hand and press it tightly in both his own.
"I feel pretty well battered up," the old man continued, his voice
growing stronger, "but I think I can move a little." He stirred slightly
under his blanket, a fact the nurse noted with joyful intentness. "So I
think I'm all here. Are you so glad, Dick, that you can cry about it?"
The smile came then upon his grandson's lighting face. "Glad,
grandfather?" said he, with some difficulty. "Why, you're all I have in
the world! I shouldn't know how to face it without you."
The old man dropped off to sleep again, his hand contentedly resting in
his grandson's. Presently the doctor looked in, studied the situation in
silence, held a minute's whispered colloquy with the nurse, then moved
to Richard's side. The young man looked up at him and he nodded. He bent
to Richard's ear.
"Things look different," he whispered succinctly. At the slight
sibilance of the whisper the old man opened his eyes again. His glance
travelled up the distinguished physician's body to his face
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