The word husband seemed to justify the rest.
"He does not, Donelle. And see here, child, we've got to go slow. Norval is going to come around all right and God knows he needs you, though he may not know it himself."
"But why, Man-Andy? And what is the matter with him, exactly? You have not told me."
There had been so much to say and do that details had been artistically eliminated.
"Well, his legs are wobbly." Law sought for the least objectionable symptoms.
"Wobbly? But he has them, hasn't he?" Donelle thought of the boys of Point of Pines who—had not.
"Legs? Jim Norval? Well, I should say so! But they've rather gone back on him for the moment. And his eyes——"
"His eyes?" Donelle clutched Law. "What about his eyes?"
"Now, see here, Donelle. I'm taking you to Norval because I believe you alone can cure him; make him want to live, but you've got to behave yourself. My girl, I don't know much myself, they've simply sent for me."
The river steamer was nearing New York. It was early morning and the gray mysterious mists were hiding the mighty, silent city. It was like a dream of a distant place. A solemn fear that strengthened and hardened Donelle rose in her at Law's words. She groped for, found, and held his hand like a good comrade.