Judith drew the quilt up over her shoulders. "I will go, if it will relieve your mind. There, my dear, do not look like that! He will recover, and you will both be so happy together!" She bent, and kissed Barbara, and had the satisfaction of seeing the dreadful pallor grow less deathly. "I shall come back in a little while to see how you go on," she promised, and, setting the candle where its tongue of light would not worry Barbara's eyes, went softly back to Colonel Audley's room.
Barbara returned to the sick-room shortly after six o'clock. Judith came forward to meet her, saying in a low tone. "We think him better. The pulse is not so tumultuous. There has been a good deal of restlessness, but you see he is quiet now. Oh, my dear, such glorious news! Bonaparte has been utterly overthrown and the whole French Army put to rout! Worth sent round to Sir Charles Stuart's an hour ago, and he had just himself heard from General Alten of our complete victory! You must know that Alten was brought in, severely wounded, very late last night, but had left instructions with one of his aides-de-camp to let him know the result of the battle at the earliest opportunity. The news reached him at three o'clock."
"The French Army routed!" Barbara repeated. "Good God, is it possible? Oh, if anything can make Charles recover, it must be that news!"
"You shall tell him when he wakes," Judith said. "I am going to bed for an hour or so. Worth has gone off to shave and change his clothes, but his man is just outside if you should need any assistance. But indeed, my dear, Charles is better."
She went away. Barbara took her vacated chair by the bedside, and sat watching the Colonel. He lay quiet, except for the occasional twitching of his hand. She felt it softly, and found it, though still dry and hot, no longer burning to the touch. Satisfied, she folded her own hands in her lap, and sat without moving, waiting for him to awaken.
A few minutes after seven he stirred. A deep sigh broke the long silence; he opened his eyes, clouded with sleep, and gave a stifled groan. His hand moved; Barbara took it in hers and lifted it to her lips. He looked at her, blankly for a moment, then with recognition creeping into his eyes, and, with it, the ghost of his old smile. "Why Bab!" he said, in a very faint voice. "You've come back to me!"
Tears hung on her lashes; she slipped to her knees, and laid her cheek against his. "You have come back to me, Charles. I shall never let you go again."
He put his arm weakly around her, and turned his head on the pillow to kiss her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
For a minute everything was forgotten in the passing away of all bitterness and grief between them. Neither spoke: explanations were not needed; for each all that signified was that they were together again.