Christian, gazing eagerly, made out beyond the attendants and the couch they bore, another figure, with a splash of white like a shield upon its front.
“Is it not Julius?” he asked swiftly, pressing her arm. “Oh, then by this time my grandfather knows of me—knows that I am here! Should you not think so? And no doubt, since it is his good day, they will take me to see him. Is that not probable?”
“I haven’t the least idea,” she responded, after a momentary pause, “either as to what Lord Julius has told him, or as to how much he is capable of understanding. Except from this distance, I have not seen him since he was struck down with paralysis. I know nothing of his condition beyond a stray, guarded word now and then from the doctors. If I were a professional thief and he a crown jewel, I could not have been more securely shut out from him!”
The melancholy bitterness of her words, and tone appealed to the young man. He drew her hand closer to his side by a delicate pressure of the arm. “I can see that you have been very unhappy,” he said, compassionately.
“Oh-h-h!” she murmured, with a shuddering sigh. “Don’t—don’t speak of it, I beg of you!”
“I also have had a sad youth,” he went on, unconsciously tightening his arm. “But now”—and he lifted his head and smiled—“who knows? Who shall say that the bad days are not all gone—for both of us?”
Only the flutter of the hand against his arm made answer. They walked oh together down the broad sunlit path.