Once out of danger, Henry’s progress towards recovery was sure, if slow. Three weeks passed before he learned how near he had been to death. It was Joan who told him, for as yet he had been allowed only the briefest of interviews with his mother and Ellen, and on these occasions, by the doctor’s orders, their past anxieties were not even alluded to. Now, however, all danger was done with, and that afternoon Joan had been informed by Dr. Childs that she might read to her patient if he wished it, or talk to him upon any subject in which he seemed to take interest.
It was a lovely July day, and Joan was seated sewing in Henry’s, or rather in her own room, by the open window, through which floated the scent of flowers and a murmuring sound of the sea. Henry had been dozing, and she laid her work upon her knee and watched him while he slept. Presently she saw that his eyes were open and that he was looking at her.
“Do you want anything, sir?” she said, hastily resuming her sewing. “Are you comfortable?”
“Quite, thank you; and I want nothing except to go on looking at you. You make a very pretty picture in that old window place, I assure you.”
She coloured faintly and did not answer. Presently he spoke again.
“Joan,” he said—he always called her Joan now—“was I very bad at any time?”
“Yes, sir; they almost gave you up three weeks ago—indeed, they said the chances were ten to one against your living.”
“It is strange: I remember nothing about it. Do you know, it gives me rather a turn. I have been too busy a man and too occupied with life to think much of death, and I don’t quite like the sensation of having been so near to it; though perhaps it is not so bad as one thinks, and Heaven knows it would have saved me plenty of worry here below,” and Henry sighed.
“I am very grateful to you all,” he went on after a moment’s pause, “for taking so much trouble about me— especially to you, Joan, for somehow or other I realised your presence even when I was off my head. I don’t know how you occupy yourself generally, but I am sure you are fond of fresh air. It is uncommonly good of you to mew yourself up here just to look after me.”
“Don’t talk like that, sir. It is my business.”