His eyes clung to
her as she approached him. So she _was_ near him--and he was not cut
off from her.
Then the surgeon watched with astonishment the sudden docility of a
man who had already seemed to him one of the most unmanageable of
persons. What spell had this woman exercised? At any rate, after a
few whispered words from her, the Squire bowed his white head and
followed her out of the room.
In the hall Elizabeth offered him a candle, and begged him to go to
bed. He shook his head, and pointed to a chair by the dying fire.
'That will do. Then I shall hear--'
He threw himself into it. She brought him a rug, for the night was
chilly, and he submitted.
Then she was going away, for it was past midnight, but something in
his fixed look, his dull suffering, checked her. She took an old
stool and sat down near him. Neither spoke, but his eyes gradually
turned to hers, and a strange communion arose between them. Though
there were no words, he seemed to be saying to her--'My boy!--my
boy!'--over and over again--and then--'Stay there!--for God's sake,
stay!'
And she stayed.
Pages:
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434