Morning penetrated the room where Carmel sat, entering gently, gently pushing back the night. Carmel sat wide-eyed, waiting, waiting. She had not slept, had not closed her eyes. From time to time she had climbed the stairs to look upon Evan Pell’s face, to be told that he lived, that his condition was unchanged.... She was worn, weary. Nothing mattered now. She was at the end of things, wishing for death.
Doctor Stewart came to the door.
“Can you step upstairs, Miss Lee?”
“Is—is he——”
The doctor shook his head.
Carmel followed. Doubtless he was sinking, and she was summoned to be present at the end.... She entered the room. Her heart was cold, heavy, dead. As she approached the beside she could not lift her eyes to Evan’s face.
“Carmel—dear....” said a voice.
Her heart came to life; it warmed, leaped in her bosom. She dared to look. His eyes were open, conscious, intelligent.
“Evan!... Evan!...” she cried and sank on her knees beside him. Her eyes devoured his face, and he smiled.