"My darling!" he breathed, unable to restrain himself.
For in that terrible moment, when he saw Bee on the ground, in a heap with the smoking figure which, but a few seconds earlier, had been a dazzling Queen of Beauty, and when he believed that she too might have been fatally injured—then in a flash he knew with no shadow of doubt all that he truly felt for Bee. And, strangely, in the same moment, questionings as to what Bee felt for him died out of existence.
"Oh!" she said, with a note of bewilderment and joy. "I didn't—think—"
And again he murmured—"My own brave, brave darling!"
Magda came near enough to hear this. It made no difference to them. They were entirely taken up, each with the other. Bee almost forgot the smart of her poor scorched hands, in the supreme gladness of learning that Ivor loved her.
[CHAPTER XXX]
IF ONLY SHE HAD—!
THROUGH the next two or three weeks Patricia's life hung on a thread. Bee's promptitude had indeed saved her from death; but shoulders and back, arms, and hands, were badly scorched, and all her pretty hair was gone. As she rushed from one room to the other the flames were driven back; yet her face had felt their touch, though to what extent the doctors did not say. For the greater part her burns were not deep, but the extent of surface affected made them serious; and she was suffering from shock to a degree which meant pressing danger.
As this peril lessened, another set in, with a threatening of septic pneumonia, barely warded off. Intense pain, restlessness, delirium, days of blindness from the swelled face, weeks of prostration in a darkened room—all these were her portion. Night and day nurses were in constant attendance.
Wide interest was felt in the poor girl's condition; and the news at length given forth, that she might be counted out of danger, was hailed with relief on all sides.