“You see he has been through the swamp,” he said.
It pleased him to find that he could use his arm with very little discomfort now, and the sense of helplessness which had lain upon him so heavily in the banda disappeared. It was difficult to realise that he had led the life of a prisoner in a dungeon for a month. And Eva, too, was amazed at the help which he gave her, for she had grown to think of him as a helpless and pitiable creature. When she had started to undress James she had not imagined that the task would be so difficult. The weight of his unconscious body surprised her. A poor, thin creature, wasted by fever . . . he looked as though she could easily pick him up in her arms. But she couldn’t. Even with the help of M‘Crae it was a struggle.
“It’s no good wasting your strength,” he said. “You’d better slit up the sleeve.” So she went to her room and fetched a pair of scissors, and then M‘Crae found himself watching her slim, capable fingers again.
“I won’t leave you now,” he said, and was rewarded by her smile.
They sat there for a long time together, speaking in whispers, as if they were afraid of waking James, although, in fact, they were most anxious that he should wake. It was a very strange night for M‘Crae. Removed at last from the gloom of the banda, it seemed to him that he had never really seen Eva before. In this light and spacious room she was quite a different creature from the gentle presence which had haunted his prison; endowed, in some way, with a more beautiful freedom of movement . . . more alive. More hopelessly unattainable. But it was ridiculous on the face of it that she should occur to him in these terms. He thrust the fancy aside obstinately, only to find it obstinately return. For why in the world should he not enjoy this brief interlude of beauty and light, seeing that in a very little time, a few days . . . perhaps a few hours, he himself must vanish altogether into a darkness from which he would never emerge? For, without any doubt, he must kill Godovius. There was no way out of that.
At length, a little time before the dawn, when the night was at its coldest, James stirred in his bed. His hand uncertainly sought his bandaged head, and Eva very tenderly guided it downwards and laid it beneath the blanket. The movement was an immense relief to both of them. Neither of them spoke; and yet M‘Crae could see that a shadow had been lifted from her face.
And now James became increasingly restless. Once or twice he gave a groan of pain, and then a deep sigh, almost a sigh of content. He tried to lift himself up in the bed, though Eva gently restrained him. At last he spoke.
“I must have left it behind . . . in the church . . . it is so light.”
He tried to open his eyes. M‘Crae could see his brows wrinkling beneath the bandage. “Too light . . .” he said.
M‘Crae moved the lamp further away from the bed. His footsteps disturbed James.