“Is it possible?”
Madame Carteret, wife of the Captain, in whose house I was, came over to look down on me. I smiled; it was all I could do, but that was as good to me as a hearty laugh, since I had come back from the land of terrible dreams. The Captain’s wife bustled away. Lucille, drying her eyes, smiling through her tears, came to stand near me.
“What has happened?” I whispered, but she prevented any more questions by placing her fingers on my lips. I kissed the rosy tips, whereat she drew them quickly away. Then I repeated what I had said.
“Hush,” she replied. “You are not to talk. The doctor says you are too weak.”
Indeed I was, as I found when I tried to rise, for I fell back like a babe. Just then Madame Carteret came back with some broth in a bowl. It tasted so well that I disposed of all of it. She laughed as one well pleased.
The last drop gone I sighed from very comfort. Lucille, taking pity on the anxious look of inquiry I turned on her, related all that had transpired.
“I was coming through the corridor in the dark,” she said, “and I saw Simon strike at you. Oh I was so frightened! I screamed when his knife glittered. He started, moving his hand just a trifle as he heard me. Perchance that saved your life, for Doctor Graydon, who has been in long attendance on you, said that had the point gone an inch higher it would have touched the heart, and that would have been an end of Captain Amherst.”
I looked the love and devotion at Lucille I could not express in actions.
“Even at that,” she went on, “there was a grievous wound in your arm and one in your side. For six weeks you have been in that bed, knowing none of us, and at times so far away from us, that we feared to see you travel off altogether.”
“But I came back to you,” I said softly.