“Hush!”
The door opened, and Glyddyr entered, looking sallow and nervous; but he began to brighten a little, as if the presence of Mary were a reprieve from the task he had set himself to do.
It was only a short one, though, for, after the first greetings, Mary rose to go.
Claude looked at her wistfully.
“Don’t let me drive you away, Miss Dillon,” said Glyddyr quickly.
Claude uttered no word to stay her, but sat gazing straight before her at a large photograph of her father, her eyes wild and fixed with the emotion from which she suffered, and for a few moments after the door was closed neither spoke.
“Miss Gartram—Claude,” said Glyddyr, at last, in a husky voice, and at his words she started, as if from a dream.
Her look seemed to freeze him, but he had taken the step now, and he rose and crossed to her side, taking the hand she surrendered to him unresistingly.
“Claude, you know how all these weary months I have been silent,” he whispered; “how I have feared to intrude upon you in your grief, though all the while I have suffered painfully too.”
“Yes,” she said gently, “you have been very patient with me, I know.”