But Lucy could not sleep, tired as she was. She lay staring out of the window through which Trudchen had leaned to summon her for Adelheid, and her restless spirit could hardly wait for daylight to tell Bob all she had seen.
At the first light of dawn she was up and dressed. Miss Pearse woke to question her and Lucy told of Trudchen’s coming and of Adelheid’s illness, reserving for another time the history of what followed.
“I’m going back now, Miss Pearse,” she explained, “for Adelheid may be worse, and I promised to go.”
“Wait a minute and I’ll make you some tea and toast,” said Miss Pearse, shivering in her thick wrapper as she lighted the alcohol lamp and filled the kettle. “Why, Lucy, how long were you out there last night? You look pale and tired. Let me go back in your place.”
“Oh, no. I’m all right. You have enough to do,” said Lucy, yawning and rubbing her heavy eyes. “I need a lot of sleep. I wouldn’t be much good as a nurse.”
She drank the tea and ate the toast thankfully, and putting on her warmest clothes, walked fast all the way to Franz’ cottage to stir her blood, chilled by the cold, foggy morning air. The sun was rising as she crossed the clearing. Trudchen met her at the cottage door with a welcoming smile that illumined her thin, anxious face.
“Adelheid is no worse, Fräulein,” she said at once. “She has slept, but her throat still hurts her. You are good to come.”
Lucy entered the cottage more willingly because she knew Franz was not there. The fagots strewn about the snow showed where he had taken up his load from among the neat piles of wood that dotted the clearing.
Lucy’s mind was so filled with the meeting in the forest, with the meaningless words of the lost memoranda, and with Franz’ unknown but undoubted connection with all this mystery that she could hardly put her thoughts on what she had come for, or think of Adelheid apart from Franz and his suspected treachery. The cottage was hateful to her, even Trudchen’s patient, unhappy face inspired no confidence, and it was only at sight of Adelheid herself that the first touch of sympathy warmed her cold suspicion.
“Fräulein, welcome!” whispered the child from her sore, swollen throat, and her flushed little face lighted at sight of her friend as she raised one arm shakily from beneath the blanket to catch Lucy’s hand.