Storms did linger about the house until the company had withdrawn from it, and the lights were put out, all but one, which burned in the chamber of Judith Hart. A curtain hung before this window, behind which he could see shadows moving for some minutes. Then the curtain was suddenly withdrawn, and the girl stood fully revealed. The light behind her fell with brilliant distinctness on the scarlet jacket, and was lost in the darker shadows of her skirt. She had twisted back the curls from her face with graceful carelessness; but, either by art or accident, had given them the rippling waves that made Ruth Jessup's head so classical.
"By Jove, but she's the very image of her!" exclaimed Storms, striking his leg with one hand. "No two sparrows were ever more alike."
This flash of excitement died out while Judith changed her position, and flung a kiss to him through the window.
For minutes after he stood staring that way, while a dull shudder passed through him.
"She's too pretty, oh, too pretty for that!" he muttered. "I wish it hadn't come into my mind!"
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A WILD-FLOWER OFFERING.
WHEN Webb entered his master's room, after the young wife had fled from it, he found the patient in a high state of excitement. The flash of his eye, and the vivid color in his cheeks, fairly frightened the good man, who dreaded, above all things, a second attack of the fever, which had already so nearly proved fatal.
"Help me to the couch; wheel it to the window. I want to look out; I want air!" said the young man, flinging himself half off the bed, and reeling toward the couch, on which he dropped, panting and so helpless that he could only enforce his first order by a gesture. Webb folded the dressing-gown over his master, and wheeled the couch close to the window.