"Oh, Trevor!" she cried in anguish. "Trevor! Trevor!"
He held her closely to him. She felt his hand laid in soothing on her head. Gasping, she opened her eyes upon his face.
"That's better," he said gently. "You've had a bad dream."
"Was it a dream?" she asked him wildly. "Was it a dream?"
And then she remembered that Bertrand had fallen asleep in the very early hours of the morning, and that they had led her away to another room to rest. Worn out in mind and body, she had yielded. She marvelled now that she had been so easily persuaded.
She turned within the circle of her husband's arm. "Trevor, you promised you would call me if he waked."
His hand was still upon her head; its touch was sustaining, subtly comforting. "He did not wake, dear," he said.
The words were few, but in a flash she knew the truth. Her eyes grew wide and dark. Her clinging hands tightened upon his arm. She made no sound of any sort. She even ceased to breathe.
He drew her head down upon his shoulder, and held her fast pressed against his breast. "Don't be afraid," he said.
But she remained tense in his arms, till her rigidity and silence alarmed him. He began to rub her cold cheek.