"Miss Follansbee," I said, "I rather think——"
"I told her that she must have a good night's sleep, Dave," came the beloved voice, "and I've been playing nurse, ever so poorly, I'm afraid. But Dr. Porter said that you would be all right now. And—and I've been so happy to be in the dear old room, and to see the old typewriter, and the calabash, and to know you are getting well again."
"I—I am thrice blessed," I said, "but it is too bad you took so much trouble. You must be dreadfully tired."
"I've been tired so long, Dave," she said, with tears coming to her eyes. "It—it has been such weary waiting."
"The nights are awfully long," I told her.
"The nights and the days, David dearest. I've been waiting such a long, long time."
She threw herself on her knees by the bed, and took up my hand, stroking it, and suddenly an amazing light seemed to flood the room, laden with knowledge, sweeping away fears, bringing a tremulous bliss to my heart.
"Dearest love!" I cried. "Is this true, or is it another dream? How could I speak of my love to you? How could old Dave cry out to the beautiful star that was so high up in the wonderful sky? I feared it would vanish and leave me in utter darkness. Do—do you mean that I may tell you of my heart's desire?"
"Yes, David dearest! Tell me of it. Tell it forever, for years and years to come. I've been so hungry for those words you dared not tell."
"I—I am all unshaven and unshorn," I said, "and——"