spondence, and took pleasure in
keeping it up. She answered eagerly that she had no letters to write
(though not without a glance at her table where one lay unfinished) and
would like his reading above everything: which was so far true that it
was a sign of peace, and an occupation which he enjoyed. She got her
work while he got the book, not without a horrible sense that Geoff,
always wakeful, would have heard her come in, and would call for her,
nor without a longing desire to go to him, if only for a moment, which
was what she had intended to do. Perhaps it was to prevent this that
Theo had been so ready with his offer, and so sensitive was he to
every impression that the poor lady felt a thrill of terror lest her
half-formed intention, or Geoff's waking, might thrill through the
atmosphere to her husband's mind, and make him fling down the book with
impatience. She got her work with a nervous haste, which it seemed he
must divine, and seated herself opposite to him. "Now, I am ready," she
said.

Poor Lady Markland! He had not read a page--a page to which she gave the
most painful attention, trying not to think that the door might open any
moment, and the nurse appear begging her to speak a word to Lord
Markland--when a faint cry reached her ears. It was faint and far away,
but she knew what it was. It was the cry of "Mamma," from Geoff's bed,
only given forth, she knew, after much tossing and turning, and which a
year ago she would have heard from any corner of the house and flown to
answer. She started when she heard it, but she had been so much on the
alert, and prepared for some interruption of the kind, that she hoped
Theo did not see the little instinctive movement "Mamma!" She sat with a
nervous thrill upon her, taking no notice, trying to listen, seeing in
the dark the little sleepless boy tossing upon his uneasy pillow, and
calling in vain for his mother, but resisting all the impulses both of
heart and habit. If only Theo might not hear! After a while, however,
Theo's ear caught the sound. "What's that?" he said sharply, stopping
and looking at her across the table. Alas! the repressed agitation in
her smile told its own story to Theo. He knew that she pretended to
listen, that she knew very well what it was. "_That_" she said, faltering.
"What? Oh! it sounds like Geoff calling--some one."

"He is calling _you_; and you are dying to be with him, to rush upstairs
and coax and kiss him to sleep. You are ruin