The old man stooped over his wife, and laid his hand gently upon hers. She did not move. He grasped her thin fingers, and tears stood in his eyes; still she did not move. He stood a moment gazing in her face, the tears running down his cheeks. He hesitated, looked at the officer half timidly, and bending down, kissed the old woman on the forehead.
That kiss broke up the ice in her heart. She stood up and began to weep.
"You spoke to me, Wilcox—what was it you wanted? I am better now—quite well. What is it you wanted me to do?"
"He only wishes you to eat and drink something," said the officer, deeply moved.
"Eat and drink—have we got anything to eat and drink? That is always his way when we are short, urging us, and hungry himself."
"But there is enough for all," said the old man. "See, I too will eat, and Julia!"
"Why, if there is enough we will all eat, why not," said the poor woman, with a dim smile.
She took the coffee, tasted it, and looked around the room with vague curiosity.
"What is all this?—where are we now, Wilcox?" she said, in a low, frightened voice.
The old man kept his eyes bent on hers, they were full of trouble, and this stimulated her to question him again.