"Will that be difficult?"
His voice was very gentle. It might have been Sunnie he was addressing.
Jean thought of her circumstances. She had drawn her last cheque, and had no more money in the bank to fall back upon. She was now living upon Barbara's hard-earned nest-egg. Her pride was broken, but the future seemed impossible to her. Difficult? What could she say? How could she tell him that she was penniless? She struggled to control herself and looked up bravely, but his keen, searching eyes seemed to be reading her through and through, and there was a look upon his face that she had never seen before.
"It will—be more than difficult," she said brokenly.
It was no good. The tears would come, and a sob stopped further speech.
Then Dr. Fergusson bent forward and took her hand in his.
"Jean, will you let me make it easy for you? Don't cry! You have been such a brave little woman all this time. Will you let me have the right to look after you in the future? I have been long in speaking, but I thought—I was told—that some one else—"
It was a halting, nervous speech, but Dr. Fergusson's self-control and self-repression failed him for once. He only saw the girl he loved getting whiter and whiter in dumb misery, and tears dimming her expressive eyes. He had his arm round her now, and Jean's tears were literally wiped away for her.
For her glance gave consent, though she hardly realised as yet the great happiness that had come to her. She only knew that the night had gone and a dawn had begun that was going to last throughout eternity.
Barbara came into the room at last.