The next minute her work was nearly undone, when Anne came in to ask for the letters for the post. ‘Shall I send yours?’ asked Amy.
He muttered an assent. But when she looked back to him after speaking to Anne, she saw a tremulous, almost convulsed working of the closed eyes and mouth, while the thin hands were clenched together with a force contrasting with the helpless manner in which they had hung a moment before. She guessed at the intensity of anguish it mast cost a temper so proud, a heart of so strong a mould, and feelings so deep, to take the first irrevocable step in self-humiliation, giving up into the hands of others the engagement that had hitherto been the cherished treasure of his life; and above all, in exposing Laura to bear the brunt of the penalty of the fault into which he had led her. ‘Oh, for Guy to comfort him,’ thought she, feeling herself entirely incompetent, dreading to intrude on his feelings, yet thinking it unkind to go away without one sympathizing word when he was in such distress.
‘You will be glad, in time,’ at last she said. He made no answer.
She held the stimulants to him again, and tried to arrange him more comfortably.
‘Thank you,’ at last he said. ‘How is Guy?’
‘He has just had another nice quiet sleep, and is quite refreshed.’
‘That is a blessing, at least. But does not he want you? I have been keeping you a long time?’
‘Thank you, as he is awake, I should like to go back. You are better now.’
‘Yes, while I don’t move.’
‘Don’t try. I’ll send Arnaud, and as soon as you can, you had better go to bed again.’