And as she spoke, Estelle glided in, held up her forefinger by way of warning, and, smiling through her tears, kissed my forehead. I felt a shock of joy, followed by anxiety. “Why did you not go?” I asked.
“I found I could dispose of my state-room, and I did it, for I was too much concerned about your health to go in peace. It was fortunate I returned. You have had the fever, but the danger is over.”
“How long have I lain thus?”
“This is the twelfth day.”
“Have I had a physician?”
“No one but Estelle; but then she is an expert; she once walked the hospitals with the Sisters of Charity.”
My convalescence was rapid. By the first of September I was well enough to take long strolls in the evening with Estelle. On the fifth of that month, early one starlit night, I said to her, “Come, Estelle, put on your bonnet and shawl for a walk.”
She brought them into my room, and placed them on the bed.
“Where shall we go?” she inquired.
“To the Rev. Mr. Fulton’s,” I replied; “that is, if you will consent to be—”