‘Come in. But there’s no fire, and you’re chilled through. Do you want to be ill? What outrageous silliness!’
Her vitality was indeed at a low ebb, and reproaches made her weep. Tarrant half carried her up to his room, made a light, and fell to his knees at fire-building.
‘Let me do it,’ Nancy exclaimed. ‘Let me wait upon you—’
‘If you don’t sit still and keep quiet, you’ll make me angry in earnest.’
‘Then you’re not really angry with me? I couldn’t help it.’
‘No, I’m afraid you couldn’t,’ Tarrant muttered cheerlessly.
‘I wanted to tell you that Mary will be our friend. She was speechless with astonishment; at first I didn’t know what she would say; she looked at me as she had never looked before—as if she were the mistress, and I the servant. But see what I have come to; all I felt was a dread lest she should think it her duty to cast me off. I haven’t a bit of pride left. I could have fallen on my knees before her; I almost did. But she was very good and kind and gentle at last. She’ll do everything she can for me.’
The fire in a blaze, Tarrant stood up and regarded it gloomily.
‘Well, did she think it possible?’ he asked at length.
‘Yes, she did. She said it would be very difficult, but the secret might be kept—if I were strong enough. And I am strong enough—I will be—’