Hildegarde made no answer. She bent over and took the child in her arms; raised him a little, with his head resting on her shoulder, so that he could see beyond her. His eyes travelled round the room, growing rounder and larger every moment, as in the broadening light one object after another shone out, familiar, and yet strange.
"Beloved," he said, "I beg your pardon! But what am I doing in your room? Will you make me understand, please?"
"You have been asleep, darling!" said Hildegarde. "You were not very well, and—and you happened to be here at the time, and so—we put you to bed here, you see."
"I don't see very well!" said Hugh, in quite his own manner. "But probably I shall in a little while. How long have I been asleep?"
"Oh, quite a long time. But aren't you hungry now, little boy? See, here is Auntie, and she is going to bring you up some breakfast, the very best breakfast you can think of. What do you say to chicken broth?"
Hugh nodded and smiled at Auntie, who stood devouring him with her eyes.
"Thank you!" he said. "I think I shall be hungry,—when my think comes back a little more. My think—my mind—has been asleep, I am pretty sure!" he added, looking up at Hildegarde with his quiet, penetrating gaze.
"If I had only just gone to sleep with my eyes, Beloved, I should remember about it; and I don't—remember—much of anything."
"Oh, never mind about it now, Hughie! When you feel stronger we will talk it all over. See! I want to bathe your face and smooth your hair before breakfast comes. Now you shall be my baby, and I will curl your golden locks for you. Shall I put something good in the water? There! Isn't that nice and fresh? And now you shall put on my dressing-jacket; my beautiful new dressing-jacket, that Bell made for me. Here it is, all fluttering with pink ribbons. Wasn't it dear of Bell to make it?"
"Bell!" said Hugh, meditatively; he seemed to be searching for something in his mind.