There was nothing the matter with her, Cousin Mary said, but the shock had been too much for her. A few days' rest and quiet, the doctor thought, might bring her round.
'You have seen the Master?' she asked Lucy eagerly when she came into the room.
Lucy noticed that the voice, like the face, had changed, and grown feeble and old.
'Yes; I have seen the Master. He is so much better to-day. He is sitting up by the window. He is quite himself.'
She didn't say anything about that fishing excursion of his, nor how tired he felt now the day's work was done.
'He is really better?'
She asked this with a strange eagerness, and laid her thin hand on Lucy's.
'Yes, dear, really better. He will soon be quite well. It is you who are the invalid now. You must make haste and get well, too.'
'Thank God!' said the feeble voice, and the thin hand relaxed its hold, and she fell back on the pillow. 'Someone told me he was wandering,' she said—'that he did not know anyone. But perhaps I am mistaken. It may be in me. I may have dreamed it.'