He stood immovable, not venturing to withdraw his hand, but with a rigid, hopeless look in his worn, pale face, which contrasted terribly with the smile of deep repose on the sleeping face on which his eyes were fixed.
And so he remained until she awoke, when his whole countenance changed for an instant to return her smile.
Then he said softly, "God bless you, Eva!" and pressing her hand to his lips, he left the room.
When I saw him again that day, I said—
"Fritz, you have saved Eva's life! She rallied from the time she saw you."
"Yes," he replied, very gently, but with a strange impassiveness in his face; "I think that may be true. I have saved her."
But he did not go in her room again; and the next day, to our surprise and disappointment, he said suddenly that he must leave us.
He said few words of farewell to any of us, and would not see Eva to take leave of her. He said it might disturb her.
But when he kissed me before he went, his hands and his lips were as cold as death. Yet as I watched him go down the street, he did not once turn to wave a last good-bye, as he always used to do; but slowly and steadily he went on till he was out of sight.
I turned back into the house with a very heavy heart; but when I went to tell Eva Fritz was gone, and tried to account for his not coming to take leave of her, because I thought it would give her pain (and it does seem to me rather strange of Fritz), she looked up with her quiet, trustful, contented smile, and said,—