With a strong constitution like that of Archer Clifton, the convalescence is rapid. And Catherine’s presence, as he said, was his true restorative.
The fourth morning from this, he was very much better, and reclined comfortably upon his couch watching Catherine, who moved quietly about the room setting things in order. He was much wasted by illness, and his face looked still more sallow and haggard for the dark, dishevelled hair and whiskers that encircled it; but his countenance wore an expression of subdued joy as he lay and watched Kate. At last—
“Are you so much afraid that Henny will disturb me by rattling a cup and saucer, or jingling a teaspoon, that you must do all yourself? My devoted Kate, I am not so ill. Come and sit upon the lounge by me, and let me talk to you,” he said, holding out his arms.
She went and sat upon the side of the couch, and he encircled her with his arm, while he said—
“My dear Kate, do you know that I thought I had lost you?”
She raised her eyes in gentle wonder.
“Yes, I thought your great and undeserved misfortunes had killed or maddened you.”
“It was the approach of your illness that gave you such dreadful thoughts,” said Catherine, gently.
“Not entirely, dear Kate. It was your last words when you fainted on my bosom—do you remember them?”
“No—I remember nothing very distinctly from the moment I threw myself in among the soldiery, and saw the bayonets glittering around me, until I awoke and found myself in the farmer’s house.”