"No, no, dear Edith; he is here—Mr. Winthrope look into her face?" said Star, turning to John, whose head was bowed under the weight of the impression that this girl's ravings made on him. John obeyed Star's request, and looked Edith in the face. Edith then put out a hand, and touched that of his; then fell back, burying her head in her soft pillow, with her hands over her face.
"She knows you," whispered Star.
"Shall I retire?" asked John, believing that the crisis had been reached.
"Oh, not yet," answered Star. Then leaning over Edith again, said: "Edith, do you want to see Mr. Winthrope again before he goes?"
Edith reached out a hand toward him, turned her head, and let her eyes move slowly in his direction. Then she laid her hand upon his. He picked it up, and she permitted him to hold it.
"Mr. Winthrope?" she said.
"I am he," he replied.
She smiled, and her eyes became less roving. "I am better," she whispered.
"Edith, I knew you would be better as soon as he came," said Star, kissing her. "Are you not glad, Mr. Winthrope?" asked Star of him.
"Very, very," he responded. He touched his lips to her fevered hand; and how it thrilled him.