“Now then?” she said, rising. “You shall hear something of her before long.”
“Let me come to her door,” entreated Archie.
And as the light shone from the window of the sick-room, Rosamond said, “Stand under that tree in the moonlight, and I will make her look out.”
All was intensely quiet; Cranky fast asleep in the arm-chair in the outer-room, and Jenny sitting by the bed, watching the smooth quiet breath.
“You are to lie down on the sofa and sleep,” said Rosamond, kissing her, and she shook her head, “You must. People want strength for joy as well as grief. Trust him to me, for there is some one for you to see to-morrow.”
“Not papa!” said Jenny, startled. “No, nor Phil! Tell me, Rosamond. There is only one you could look at me like that for!”
“Look out at the window.”
Trembling all over, Jenny went and put her face to the lattice. The figure under the tree came nearer. Archie must have been able clearly to see her face in the moonlight. He stretched up his arms to her, then folded them together on his breast, and let himself be led away by Julius, while Jenny slid down on her knees, with her face buried, and the suppressed choking sobs made Herbert look up at Rosamond, and whisper, “It is?”
“It is,” repeated Rosamond, who had thought him asleep, or entirely absorbed in the trouble of living.
“Go to her,” he added.