“You’ve been frightened,” he said.
She could not answer him because of the wild palpitation of her heart. He bent over her; then suddenly knelt beside her, and she felt the strong grip of his hand on hers.
“There’s nothing to frighten you,” he said, in his deep voice, and she knew that for some reason he was moved.
She leaned her head against the back of the chair, battling with her weakness. “I am not very strong yet,” she managed to say.
“I know—I know! You’ll be better presently. Don’t take any notice of these trifles!”
The gentleness of his voice amazed her; it had the sound of a half-suppressed appeal, and something within her stirred in answer.
“You are very good to me,” she said.
“Good! To you!” There was almost a passionate note in his reply. His grip upon her hand tightened, and then in a moment he seemed to control himself, and very slowly he set her free and rose. “What I wanted to say to you,” he said, “is just that I am sorry that you should have been upset in any way by any unfortunate family disagreements. I don’t know what Oliver was saying to you on the subject; he probably told you that they are by no means unusual. But please take my word for it that it shall not happen again if I can possibly prevent it, and make allowances where you can!”
The appeal was unmistakable this time, and again that sense of comradeship possessed her in spite of all misgiving. She smiled at him without speaking, and somehow his answering smile sent a quick thrill to her heart.
He turned to go, then abruptly wheeled back to her. “One thing more! I’ve found your letter—the one you lost in the garden. Do you want it back, or may I destroy it?”