Volume Three—Chapter Twenty Six.
More Mating.
Slow work—terribly slow work; but at the end of three days—during which at any moment it had seemed as if the light of life would become extinct—Helen Perowne still lived, and in place of Grey Stuart or Mrs Bolter, Neil Harley was mostly by her side.
She suffered still from wild attacks of delirium, and in her wanderings, if the firm, strong hand of the Resident was not there to hold her, she grew plaintive and fretful, and a look of horror appeared upon her wasted face; but no sooner did she feel Neil Harley’s firm clasp and hear his whispered words, than she uttered a sigh of content, and dropped always into a placid sleep.
To his surprise and delight, these words seemed to pacify her; a long-drawn sigh came from her breast, and she fell into a restful slumber.
During the rest of the critical time of her illness a few whispered words always had the desired effect, and from that hour Helen began rapidly to mend.
“Yes, she is improving fast now,” said the doctor, as he sat beside her bed talking, as if he believed his patient to be asleep. “I shan’t take any of the credit, Harley. I should have lost her, I am sure, for it was not in physic to do more than I had done. There, I am going down now to my specimens, to have a look at them, and talk to my wife, for I have hardly seen her of late.”
He rose and left the room, and the Resident took his place, seeing that the great dark eyes were fixed upon him, full of a strange, pathetic light, that the warm evening glow seemed to give an almost supernatural effect.
“You are awake, then?” he said, softly.