all. As one in a dream she
made the responses, felt the feeble clasp of that hand whose strength
and masterful power had thrilled her, heard the faint echo of that loved
voice that had wooed her so passionately once, yet wooed in vain, while
now--

She was alone again, alone with him who lay so very still and pale with
eyes closed wearily; from him she glanced to that which gleamed so
bright and new upon her finger and bending her head she pressed the
wedding ring to her lips.

"Wife!" he whispered; the weary eyes were open, and his look drew her.
So she knelt beside the bed again, stooping above him low and lower
until her head lay beside his upon the pillow. Slowly, slowly his feeble
hand crept up to her glowing cheek, to the soft waves of her hair, and
to the little curl that wantoned above her eyebrow.

"Hermione--wife--kiss me!"

Tenderly her arms enfolded him, and with a soft little cry that was half
a sob she kissed him, his brow, his hair, his lips, kissed him even
while she wetted him with her falling tears.

"Beloved," he murmured, "my glorious--scrubwoman--if I must--leave
you--these dear hands need never--never slave again. Never--any--more,
my Hermione."

Long after he had fallen to sleep she knelt there, cradling his weakness
in her arms, looking down on him with eyes bright with love.

After this were days and nights when the soul of him wandered in dark
places filled with chaotic dreams and wild fancies; but there was ever
one beside him whose gentle voice reached him in the darkness, and whose
tender hand hushed his delirium and soothed his woes and troubles.

CHAPTER XXXV

HOW GEOFFREY RAVENSLEE CAME OUT OF THE DARK

She was knitting; and opening sleepy eyes he watched drowsily and
wondered what it might be and was minded to enquire, but sighed instead
and fell asleep again.

She was knitting; knitting something in red wool, and opening his eyes
again, he lay watching awhile and pondered dreamily as to what it could
be she wrought at so busily, for the wool was so very red and so
extremely woolly.

Her chin was set at an angle somewhat grim, she was sitting very
upright in her chair and, though scrupulously hidden from sight, her
elbows--truly how portentous were the undisguisable points of those
elbows! And she was knitting fiercely in wool that was remarkably red
and woolly.

"Pray what is it, Mrs. Trapes?" A feeble whisper, but, at the sound,
faint though it was, Mrs. Trap