The brandy was working now and his nerves had steadied, but he found the nurse's manner maddeningly calm. “I'll go to Mary,” he muttered, and, brushing past her, sprang up the stairs.
What he expected to see he did not know, but his heart pounded as he opened the bedroom door. The room was bright with lamplight, and in spotless order. At her small writing-table sat Mary, in a loose white dressing gown, her hair in smooth braids around her head, writing. What was she doing? Was she leaving some last message for him, in case—? He felt himself grow cold again. “Mary!” he exclaimed hoarsely.
She looked round, and called joyfully to him.
“Oh, darling, there you are. I'm getting everything ready. It's coming, Stefan dearest. I'm so happy!” Her face was excited, radiant.
He ran to her with a groan of relief, and, kneeling, caught her face to his. “Oh, Beautiful, you're all right then? She told me—I was afraid—” he stumbled, inarticulate.
She stroked his cheek comfortingly. “Dearest, isn't it wonderful—just think—by to-morrow our baby will be here.” She kissed him, between happy tears and laughter.
“You are not in pain, darling? You're all right? What were you writing when I came in?” he stammered, anxiously.
“I'm putting all the accounts straight, and paying all the bills to date, so that Lily won't have any trouble while I'm laid up,” she beamed.
Stefan stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then burst into half-hysterical laughter.
“Oh, you marvel,” he gasped, “goddess of efficiency, unshakable Olympian! Bills! And I thought you were writing me a farewell message.”