“That doesn’t matter. You mustn’t know, you mustn’t see. But enough strength came.”
“Yes.”
“I shall hold on, and you will—help.”
“I will; I do.”
“Pray for my soul.”
“Yes.”
They had spoken in low, quiet tones—the words seemed to drop out; but now the spell broke, and Florella looked away and spoke with a falter.
“But it has been very bad for you; you are ill—and things went wrong.”
“Oh,” said Guy, “I shall be able, I hope, to set things pretty right. I can get along—”
As he spoke there was a step, and Cuthbert came in, followed by his sister.