"It is Captain Roger, Beloved! It is himself; do you hear his voice? And he must come up, please, this moment of time, to see me, and to let me tell him what is in my heart for him."
Hildegarde hesitated; there was a tumult within her that made her feel uncertain what was best to do or say; but in this moment Mrs. Grahame had brought Roger up-stairs, and now he was here, on the threshold. He was in the room; he was holding her hand, and looking at her with his bright, kind gaze.
Neither of them spoke; it was Hugh who broke the silence. Roger had sat down by him, after that first silent greeting, and kissed his forehead, and took both the child's hands in his.
"I heard you, Captain Roger; I heard the first tone of your voice, and you sounded like an angel."
"Did I, Hugh? I don't think I look like an angel, do you? Did you ever see a picture of one with a moustache?"
"Perhaps not; but it says that they don't always look like themselves, you know. Many times they looked just like common men in the Bible. And you were an angel when you came to me on the roof the other night."
Roger glanced quickly at Hildegarde; the girl nodded.
"He knows," she said. "I could not keep it from him, the moment he was himself again. He pieced it all out, with hardly any help from me."
Roger looked grave, but his anxious look rested on Hildegarde, not on Hugh.
"Did you take cold?" he asked.