CHAPTER XIII
THE WAY TO COVENTRY
Honor lay awake a long time that first night after her return. Her mind was too full of what Vivette called “thinks.” (“Oftentimes,” said poor Vivi, “I have in the night sorry thinks!” That was when she had the toothache, which explained matters.) Her body lay in its own bed—the plain little white enameled bed; no quaint faces of friendly apostles to bless it! Her mind was away at the Châlet; the eyes of her spirit were gazing through the little square window at the great snow mountain, towering in the blue-black sky thick-set with stars, “rising like a cloud of incense from the earth.” In her ears was the low tinkle of musical bells, as the goats moved hither and thither, browsing on the short turf.
“If only I could hear it always!” sighed Honor. “If only every night I could go back, like the Enchanted Fawn! I would sing, as she did, only change the words a little:
“‘Say, how is my Gretli,
And how are they all?
Oh, say but the word,
And I’ll come at your call!’”
How cool and sweet the air came in at the window, the breath of the Mountain himself! (Honor was nearly asleep now, and really fancied herself at the Châlet!) How clear and—silvery—the bells—hark!—who was crying? Gretli was asleep; goats could not cry—
All of a sudden Honor came wide awake, and sat up in bed, listening. Some one was crying! not far from her; long, heavy sobs, full of a dull, hopeless pain. Where—what—who? Honor put out her hand and encountered the smooth iron of her bed. Of course! she was at home, in Pension Madeleine! In the cell on her right was Stephanie: in that on the left—Maria Patterson.
It was from the left that the sobs came. Honor listened intently; dreadful sobs; her heart ached to hear them! She slipped quietly out of bed, turned the handle of the door noiselessly, groped for the next handle—another moment and she was beside Maria, where she sat sobbing in her bed; her warm arms were pressing close the cold, shivering body, her smooth cheek was laid against the other, wet with bitter tears.