Mrs. Ralston's hand closed comfortingly upon hers. "You're quite safe, dearest," she said. "Don't be afraid!"
"But it's so dreadfully dark," Stella said restlessly. "I shouldn't mind if I could see the way. But I can't—I can't."
"Be patient, darling!" said Mrs. Ralston very tenderly. "It will be lighter presently."
It was growing very late. She herself was listening for every sound, hoping against hope to hear the firm quiet step of the man who alone could still her charge's growing distress.
"It would be so dreadful to miss him," moaned Stella. "I have waited so long. Mary, why don't they light a lamp?"
A shaded lamp was burning on the table by the bed. Mrs. Ralston turned and lifted the shade. But Stella shook her head with a weary discontent.
"That doesn't help. It's in the desert that I mean—so that he shan't miss me when he comes."
"He cannot miss you, darling," Mrs. Ralston assured her; but in her own heart she doubted. For the doctor had told her that he did not think she would live through the night.
Again she strained her ears to listen. She had certainly heard a sound outside the door; but it might be only Peter who, she knew, crouched there, alert for any service.
It was Peter; but it was not Peter only, for even as she listened, the handle of the door turned softly and someone entered. She looked up eagerly and saw the doctor.