“Yes; I heard all that he said, and it is true.”
“Thank heaven!” said the Resident, fervently, as he took one of the thin brown hands from the white coverlet and held it in both of his.
“I believe it was your tender words that gave me hope,” said Helen, softly. “Now it is time to take them back.”
“Take them back?” he exclaimed, wonderingly.
“Yes; take them back. Do you think I could be so weak and cruel as to let you be burdened for life with such a degraded thing as I?” she cried; and she burst into so violent a fit of sobbing that the Resident grew alarmed; but he must have possessed wonderful soothing power, for when Mrs Bolter came in a short time after, it was to find Helen Perowne’s weary head resting upon Neil Harley’s arm, and there was a restful, peaceful look in her eyes that the little lady had never seen there before.
Helen did not move, and the Resident seemed as if it was quite a matter of course for him to remain there, so little Mrs Bolter went softly forward and bent down to kiss her invalid as she called her, when she was prisoned by two trembling weak arms, and for a few minutes nothing was heard but Helen’s sobs.
When Mrs Bolter went down soon afterwards to sit with the doctor, she said, softly:
“I never thought I could like that girl, Henry, and now I believe I almost love her.”
“That’s because she has changed her colour,” said the doctor, with a hearty chuckle.
“Oh! that reminds me,” cried Mrs Bolter; “I wanted to ask you about that.”