“A man cannot be a stranger with you ten minutes, if he only looks at you;—still less a woman.”
Falconer looked pleased, and smiled.
“I am glad you think so. Let us go.”
When they arrived, Margaret came to them. Hugh told her that Falconer was his best friend, and one who knew London perhaps better than any other man in it. Margaret looked at him full in the face for a moment. Falconer smiled at the intensity of her still gaze. Margaret returned the smile, and said:
“I will ask Miss Cameron to see yet.”
“Thank you,” was all Falconer’s reply; but the tone was more than speech.
After a little while, they were shown up to Euphra’s room. She had wanted to sit up, but Margaret would not let her; so she was lying on her couch. When Falconer was presented to her, he took her hand, and held it for a moment. A kind of indescribable beam broke over his face, as if his spirit smiled and the smile shone through without moving one of his features as it passed. The tears stood in his eyes. To understand all this look, one would need to know his history as I do. He laid her hand gently on her bosom, and said: “God bless you!”
Euphra felt that God did bless her in the very words. She had been looking at Falconer all the time. It was only fifteen seconds or so; but the outcome of a life was crowded into Falconer’s side of it; and the confidence of Euphra rose to meet the faithfulness of a man of God.—What words those are!—A man of God! Have I not written a revelation? Yes—to him who can read it—yes.
“I know enough of your story, Miss Cameron,” he said, “to understand without any preface what you choose to tell me.”
Euphra began at once: