"I am glad to hear you say so; I simply detest my own society," says Miss Chesney, with much vivacity, in spite of the foot. "But,"—with a rueful glance at the bandaged member,—"I little thought I should make your acquaintance in this way. I have given you terrible trouble, have I not?"
"No, indeed, you must not say so. I believe"—laughing,—"I have been only too glad, in spite of my former desire for privacy, to see some one from the outer world again. Your hair has come down. Shall I fasten it up again for you?" Hardly waiting an answer, she takes Lilian's hair and binds and twists it into its usual soft knot behind her head, admiring it as she does so. "How soft it is, and how long, and such a delicious color, like spun silk! I have always envied people with golden hair. Ah, here is the carriage: I hope the drive home will not hurt you very much. She is ready now, Mr. Chetwoode, and I think she looks a little better."
"I should be ungrateful otherwise," says Lilian. "Mrs. Arlington has been so kind to me, Cyril."
"I am sure of that," replies he, casting a curious glance at Cecilia that rather puzzles Lilian, until, turning her eyes upon Cecilia, she sees what a pretty pink flush has stolen into her cheeks. Then the truth all at once flashes upon her, and renders her rather silent, while Cyril and Mrs. Arlington are making the carriage more comfortable for her.
"Come," says Cyril, at length taking her in his arms. "Don't be frightened; I will hurt you as little as I can help." He lifts her tenderly, but the movement causes pain, and a touch of agony turns her face white again. She is not a hero where suffering is concerned.
"Oh, Cyril, be careful," says Mrs. Arlington, fearfully, quite unconscious in her concern for Lilian's comfort that she has used the Christian name of her lover.
When Lilian is at length settled in the carriage, she raises herself to stoop out and take Cecilia's hand.
"Good-bye, and thank you again so much," she says, earnestly. "And when I am well may I come and see you?"
"You may, indeed,"—warmly. "I shall be anxiously expecting you; I shall now"—with a gentle glance from her loving gray eyes—"have a double reason for wishing you soon well."