His heart gave a great leap.
—Loving, for she laid her hand upon his shoulder, and he turned round with a smile of triumph, to drop palette and brushes and turn white as ashes.
“Cornel!”
“Yes, Armstrong. The world grows very small now. You wanted me, and I am here.”
“I—I wanted you?” he faltered, as she took a step or two back, and then stood gazing at him wistfully, with her hands clasped before her, and a look of love, pity, and despair in her eyes that stung him through and through.
“Yes, Armstrong, I heard that you were in great peril. We were children together. Armstrong—you wanted help—and—I have come.”
He sank into the nearest chair with a groan, and she advanced slowly and stood close to him.
“I have felt for weeks that there was something: your letters were so different. Then they became fewer; then they ceased. But I said you were busy, and I waited so patiently, Armstrong, till that message came.”
“What message?” he cried hoarsely.
“That which told me I ought to join Michael, and help you in this time of need.”