There was a depression, a weariness, in her voice which could not be mistaken, and, in fact, the telling of the story had been almost more than she could bear. In a moment Tom was on his feet.
'What a selfish idiot I am!' he cried, 'allowing you to exhaust yourself after this fashion. Come; I can't let you speak another word. Trixy will be looking for you, too. She will think we have spirited you away.'
'Ah, poor Trixy!' said Lady Elton, smiling through her tears. 'She is a little bit of a heroine, too. But she is differently constituted from Grace. She exults over her share in our little skirmish.'
And so, speaking lightly to hide the deep feeling that had almost overpowered them, they left the ferny hollow where the strange story had been told, and made their way slowly through the beautiful garden, radiant now with morning sunlight, to the ladies' pavilion.
Touching and tender beyond expression was the first meeting between Grace and Tom after he had seen her mother and heard the wild tale she had to tell.
It did not come about until the evening of that day. 'We must let her rest,' Lady Elton had said, and he agreed. But, when the daylight had fallen, he found his way to the door of the pretty little room that had been allotted to them. Aglaia saw him, ran in to tell Lady Elton, and then ran away again.
Grace was lying on the sofa, her pale gold hair spread about her like a cloud, white and weak, but with a look of dawning hope on her face that made her poor mother's heart tremble with joy.
'Tom is here,' she whispered, bending over her. 'May he come in?'
Her eyes gave the consent that her voice had scarcely strength to frame. Lady Elton went out and told Tom that he might go in, warning him, at the same time, that she was weak and that he must not stay too long.