‘Yes–thanks!’ he answered, running up the stairs and finding himself at last in the subdued light of Nita’s room, hearing Avice’s voice exclaim:
‘Oh, Jerome! Thank God!’
He neither saw nor heeded anyone, but strode to Nita’s side, and knelt by her bed, controlling himself with a great effort.
‘Is it you, Jerome?’ said a feeble changed voice. Avice and Miss Shuttleworth had left them, the latter sobbing uncontrollably.
‘Don’t speak, Nita, my darling! I am here, I shall never leave you till you are well again!’ he murmured.
‘I must speak, Jerome. I want to say–you will love my baby–oh!’ She began to weep pitifully.
‘Hush, hush!’ he implored her. ‘Nita, hush! Let me love you, my child.’
‘And you will not let him forget that I was his mother, and should have loved him dearly if I had stayed with him,’ she went on, in a voice ever fainter and fainter.
‘You shall teach him yourself, my wife. Ah, Nita, you must not leave me! God knows how I need you and your love and your forgiveness!’
‘Jerome,’ with a sudden flicker of life and strength, ‘do you love me a little?’