Christina thought it best to ignore the latter half of this sentence, and having fetched from the dressing-room next door, a tray of appetising viands, which she deposited on a table by the bed, she came to the sick man's side to give him the help he needed. It was with great difficulty that he dragged himself from his chair, and the girl's strength was taxed to the utmost to support his weight, when he leant heavily upon her shoulder. He was considerably taller than he had looked when sitting in the chair; and he was so weak, and apparently so crippled, that his progress across the room was a slow and painful one. Short though the transit was from chair to bed, his breath came fast as he sank down upon the pillow, and for several seconds he looked so worn and exhausted, that Christina did not dare to leave him. Into the milk put ready for him, she poured some brandy from a flask on the tray, and, holding the glass to his lips, was thankful to see that he could drink its contents, and that having done so, the colour gradually returned to his face.
"Better now," he said slowly, opening his sunken eyes and looking at Christina with a smile that gave his face a pathetic wistfulness. "I shall be all right soon."
"Can't I do anything more for you?" Christina asked, still troubled by his exhausted looks.
"No, nothing more. Come back in half an hour to see if I am all right—just to console Madge," he answered, smiling again, as she softly stole away.
"Did he ask many questions? Had he heard anything of what happened? He was not frightened or upset?" The questions poured out in a torrent from the lips of the white-faced woman in the other room, when Christina re-entered it. She was sitting up in the bed, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes dark with anxiety.
"He asked very little," Christina answered, "and I think he could not have been upset by hearing anything that happened. I am sure he could have heard nothing," she added earnestly; "he is going to bed now, and I am to go back presently to see that he is all right. He said it would comfort Madge."
A smile flickered over the white face.
"My poor Max," she whispered under her breath. "I could not bear it if anything else happened to hurt him; I could not bear it." The passion in her voice brought a lump into Christina's throat. "He has had so much to bear. Ah! my God! give him peace at the last!"
The vehement voice died into silence, and Christina, feeling very young and forlorn, and quite unable to cope with a grief and passion so intense, could only stand silently by the bed, her hand just touching the restless hand, on which a thick wedding ring was the only ornament.
"You don't know what it means to care like that for a man," the passionate voice spoke again; "you are so young—just a slip of a girl"; the woman's dark eyes rested tenderly, almost sadly, on Christina's face. "You don't know what it means, to care so much for a man that—no matter what he is, or does, he is your world, your whole world. Do you?" she asked, leaning forward and seizing the girl's hands in her own hot ones.