Mother Cary looked up at her. "Darlin', come here to yo' Ma Cary," she said, and, when the girl knelt beside her, she put her arms about her and laid her withered, soft old cheek against Rosamund's hair.
"Honey," she said, "Ma Cary knows how you're feelin'! You're a young maid, an' by words unasked; but he's your man, an' you're his woman, in the sight o' God and the knowledge o' your own hearts. Ain't it so? Yes—but don't cry, my lamb! Don't cry like that! This ain't the time to cry. Look at me, dearie! That's right! Well, I didn't tell you to go, before to-night, because I knew 'twasn't for the best; but now your place is over there, alongside o' him. Let him open his eyes on you, ef so be it he is to open them knowin'ly in this world again. An' ef he ain't to be permitted to do that—then, my lamb, it's for you to be there to close 'em. There! That's right! Put it all back—grief keeps, an' maybe you won't need it, after all. Sho'! Hyear me talkin'! Why, I jest downright know you won't need it!"
Rosamund lifted her white, white face. "But——" she began.
"I know what you're thinkin'," Mother Cary said. "I once thought that a way, too, befo' Pap made me see what was right. Put all sech doubts away from you. Your love an' his love are worth more than that. Look Ma Cary in the face, lamb, an' tell me—ain't they? There, there, now don't let the tears rise up again. You ain't got time for tears to-night."
"But the nurse—Doctor Blake—what will they—Oh, how can I?"
"It'll be all right with Doctor Blake. He knows you're comin'! An' as for the nurse, she's a paid hirelin', and you're his woman. Jest you bear that in mind, honey—hurry, there's Pap's wheels!"
So it came to pass, in that critical hour before dawn when souls so often waver upon the threshold of life, when John Ogilvie's breathing became less labored and his eyes opened—tired, to be sure, but with unmistakable consciousness in them—it was Rosamund who was bending over him, while the strange woman in the white gown and cap looked at him, felt his pulse, smiled as if satisfied, and went out and closed the door behind her. It was Rosamund whose eyes smiled into his with the pitiful, brave effort of trying to make believe that there had never been any danger at all to frighten her. His hand moved toward her, his lips formed her name; and it was Rosamund's warm palm which closed over his hand, and her cheek which rested against his as he went to sleep.
"It was Rosamund whose eyes smiled into his."