She unlocked and opened it, wheeling the chair out on the colonnade, and some change in his countenance arrested her attention. Bending down, she found tears on his cheeks.
"You opened this door the day Herriott came. Because you heard him tell me about Keith, you married him. You burned the papers—you saved me."
"No, father; no!"
She fell on her knees and hid her face in his gown.
"You tried to keep me from knowing you heard Herriott, but I saw you. You married him for my sake. My blessed child! When I am gone, I want you to remember no other man ever had such a daughter. My Eglah——"
After a moment he sighed, and with great difficulty added slowly:
"My dear, kiss me, and always—always you must know—how precious you—are, precious——"
She kissed him twice, dried his cheeks, and, as he turned his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, she rolled him up and down the colonnade, hoping that during his nap he would forget. He often slept soundly in this way, soothed by the motion like a child in a carriage.
Was he laboring under some delusion of an enfeebled brain—did he dream? Or was it possible he had actually seen her leave his room on her errand of rescue?
A half hour later a veil of cloud drifted across the sun, a blast of wind leaped out of the northwest, and, fearing a change of temperature, she turned the chair toward the door and wheeled it inside.