nt but
peremptory sign, and Nelly obediently took some food under his dimly
smiling eyes.

'I have thought of this so often,' he murmured--I knew you'd come. It's
been like someone walking through a dark passage that was getting
lighter. Only once--I had a curious dream. I thought I saw Bridget'

Nelly, trembling, took away his tray and her own, and then knelt down
again beside him. She kissed his forehead, and tried to divert his
thoughts by asking him if he was warm enough. His hands were very cold.
Should she make up the fire?

'Oh, no,--it's all right. But wasn't it strange? Suddenly, I seemed to
be looking at her--quite close--and she at me. And I was worried because
I had seen her more distinctly than I could remember you. Come
nearer--put your dear head against me. Oh, if I could only hold you, as
I used to!'

There was silence a little. But the wine had flushed him, and when the
bloodless lids lifted again, there was more life in the eyes.

'Nelly, poor darling, have you been very lonely?--Were the Farrells kind
to you?'

'Yes, George, very kind. They did everything--everything they could.'

'Sir William promised me'--he said, gratefully. 'And where have you been
all the time? At Rydal?'

'No. I was ill--after the news came----'

'Poor Nelly!'

'And Sir William lent us one of his farms--near his cottage--do you
remember?'

'A little. That was kind of him--very kind. Nelly--I want to send him a
message----'

'Yes.'

'Give him my grateful thanks, darling,--and--and--my blessing.'

Nelly hid her face against him, and he felt the convulsion of tearless
sobbing that passed through her.

'Poor Nelly!'--he said again, touching her hand tenderly. Then after
another pause--'Sit there, darling, where I can see you--your dear head,
and your eyes, and your pretty neck. You must go to bed soon, you
know--but just a little while! Now tell me what you have been doing.
Talk to me. I won't talk. I'll rest--but I shall hear. That's so
wonderful--that I _can_ hear you. I've been living in such a queer
world--no tongue--no ears--no mind, hardly--only my eyes.'

She obeyed him by a great effort. She talked to him--of what, she hardly
knew!--about her months in London and Torquay--: about her illness--the
farm--Hester Martin--and Cicely.

When she came to speak of her friendship with Cicely, he smiled in
surprise, his eyes still shut.

'That's jolly, dearest. You remember, I didn't like her. She wasn't at
al