"I shall like it, dear, and Virgie will, too, I'm sure, if you think it best, and if Mr. Ewing——"
"Ewing suggested it, and he didn't waste any words telling what a good plan he thought it was. We'll have some extra things brought up from Pagosa to make you comfortable, and you can have a bully long rest there."
"A long rest, yes—and let us have a piano. I'd like to hear some music while I'm resting."
"Sure! we'll have one up from Durango. You might need to stay there until—well—into the winter, you know."
"I think so, Clarence." She was tempted sometimes to confide to him the truth about her sickness, but refrained.
"Well, it won't be very long. All you want is a rest."
Her mind echoed it when he had gone. Yes, a rest. She looked up at Virginia, who had entered softly. Her face still shone with the thought of rest and release, and she smiled up at the girl, who had laid a cool hand on her flushing cheek, and now regarded her with devouring eyes. She stood so a moment, then knelt to peer at the wasted face. She looked a long time without speaking, looked shrewdly and, at last, accusingly.
"What is it, dearest? I saw it in your face yesterday. What is it I see? Something has frightened you—beaten you."
The other smiled protestingly, chidingly, with a raised finger; but the girl was not to be appeased.
"You won't tell me, Nell; I know you; you'll keep it in. But, oh, dearest!" She suddenly gathered the sick woman into her strong young arms, raising her head from the pillow, holding the fevered face to her breast, pressing her own cool cheek to the hot brow.