"Take my arm.... Cling to me tightly. You are not fit to walk alone."
And she clung. Forgot all he had said to her. Just had something strong and powerful to cling to in her time of trouble, and she clung. Her heart beat so as to pain her. She heard him speak and spoke to him in reply. But all the while her heart was full of prayers of gratitude. God had been very good to her.
Every step they took brought them nearer the bungalow. Nearer the realization of hopes upon which she had almost erected a monument. She knew—felt rather—for certain that he would save Gracie. Faith was strong in her.
He kept her talking all the way they walked. Thought to divert her mind from thoughts of the sick chamber they were coming to. But she wanted to think of it; there was happiness in the thought. Her companion's voice rang so cheerily—it gave her hope. There seemed magic in it; power to dispel doubts and fears.
"What did you mean by a girl and a message you sent half-an-hour ago? My landlady went to bed about nine o'clock. There has not been a soul near the house since."
"A mistake evidently."
She answered feebly. Was too fatigued to seek explanation. He was there, going home with her—that was enough.
"In some way, yes. But there was no mistake in your thinking me capable of such brutality as——"
He stopped. Recollected the words he had himself used to her in his anger at their last meeting. She was entitled to judge him so; was fully justified. The reflection was bitter as gall.
She had no suspicion why he paused. Had she known, her answer might have been different. As it was she said meekly: