On the neighbouring balcony stood, clad in white, flowing garments of lace, a woman's figure, and stared with wide open eyes into the moonlight.
It was she—her friend.
Softly Mary stepped out again and observed her, full of shy curiosity. The moonlight shone full upon the delicate slim face, that seemed to shine with an inner radiance. The eye had a yearning glow. A smile, ecstatic and fearful at once, made the lips quiver, and the hands that grasped the iron railing pulsed as if in fear and expectation.
Mary heard her own heart begin to beat. A hot flush rose into her face?
What was all that? What did it mean?
Such a look, such a smile, she had never seen in her life. And yet both seemed infinitely familiar to her. Thus a woman must look who—
She had no time to complete the thought, for a fit of coughing recalled her to Nathaniel.
A motion of his hand directed her to close the window and the shutters. It would have been better never to have opened them. Better for her, too, perhaps.
Then she sat down next to him and held his head until the paroxysm was over.
He sank back, utterly exhausted. His hand groped for hers. With abstracted caresses she touched his weary fingers.