“It is Tuesday morning,” he said stooping down to kiss her, a rapturous sense of relief filling his heart.
She seemed to meditate for a few minutes, and obediently took the gruel the nurse brought her.
“Why!” she exclaimed presently. “It is your first night in Hamlet, and you will be tired out. Go and rest, darling.”
“The best rest is to see you growing better,” he said tenderly.
After another interval she asked about the child.
“Do you want to see him?” asked the young doctor, hailing as a good sign her return of interest.
“Not now, later on” she said quietly. “I will try to sleep first. I’m sure I could sleep if you would go and rest, Ralph.”
“Quite right, you are a wise little woman, Mrs. Denmead,” said Dr. Grey.
Ralph allowed himself to be taken off by the younger doctor, seeing that they thought it best he should go. They paused on the way down to visit the next room, where the good-natured landlady sat in a rocking-chair by the fire nursing the latest descendant of Sir Ralph Denmead the Crusader who, instead of being born in a stately castle, had first seen the light in Kingsmead Terrace at a lodging house specially reserved for what the landlady termed “Theat’icals.”
Ralph could only thank her for all her help, but he was blessed with the power of expression and the good soul felt fully rewarded for what she had gone through.