"Ah, what a relief! It seemed as if I should never hear. She is really in no danger then?"
"None."
"Thank God! As you came in you looked so distressed I feared—"
"When it was all over and there was nothing to cry about, I cried," interrupted Gerald. "Women are always fools. I'll except Mrs. Whittridge, however. She has been the greatest comfort to Phebe."
"It is Soeur Angélique's characteristic privilege always to be a comfort,
I believe," answered Denham, recovering his light-heartedness in a
flash. "Might I inquire if you have any especial object with this lamp?
Shall I do any thing particularly with it?"
"Let it down, please—anywhere. I remembered the room was dark, and ran down to put it to rights before Mrs. Lane should comeback. Her orderly soul would have a spasm if she came upon it suddenly like this."
"It was well I had no light," said Denham, looking around him. "It would have frightened even me. Shan't I call some one?"
"It's the ridiculous fashion of the house to suppose it never needs servants at this hour. There's not one within reach."
"You must let me help you then. Is this the table-cover?"
"Thanks. I am afraid the fire has done for it, but we can't help that. Pull it a little farther to your side, please. Farther still. That's too far. So. That's right. Now the lamp here. Now the books. Cover up the holes with them."