"That—that is not all," he faltered, his shoulders drooping and his whole attitude broken and dejected. "She thinks that everything is as she had believed it would be—two years—ago. She thinks that we are married—that you are in the house, but stay out of the room for fear of disturbing her. Oh, Poppea, could you—could you slip a loose shawl or a sack over your shoulders and go in for a moment and speak to her or answer her, so that she need not know? Will you do it for the sake of all those years that we were comrades?"
Only for a moment had Poppea drawn back, but it was so imperceptibly that Hugh did not notice.
"I will go," she said slowly, without looking at him, "and you need wait only a minute."
Going swiftly to her room, she made a wrapper and pair of slippers into a hasty bundle and threw a light shawl about her head and shoulders. Saying a few words to Satira, who was in the kitchen kneading bread and so could not follow her to the gate for details other than she chose to give, she took her place silently by Hugh in the buggy.
On the drive neither spoke, for it was one of the hours when the softest spoken word is too harsh and jarring. Up from the marsh meadows the cry of the rejuvenated "peepers" rose in what to Poppea's nerves, strained to snapping, seemed a clamor that surrounded her head closely and dulled even her powers of thought.
At the threshold Mrs. Shandy was waiting, her eyes red from crying. With finger on her lips Poppea signalled that she wished to go to Mrs. Shandy's room. There she slipped on the wrapper she had brought, and loosing the pins, let her hair fall in a careless braid, as though she had but just waked up.
In the square upper hall Dr. Morewood sat in a deep easy-chair, reading by a shaded lamp. In answer to Poppea's questioning look he said in the low tone, that yet is not a whisper, which the sensitive physician acquires:—
"Yes, the brain is clear, but the physical vitality in its final flicker; at best it can hold its own but a few hours."
When, steadying herself by an almost superhuman effort, Poppea reached the door of Mrs. Oldys's chamber, so familiar in every detail even in the subdued light, Hugh was already there crouched by the bedside, one of his mother's transparent hands clasping his, while with the other she was striving to push back the heavy hair from his forehead.
At the sight of Poppea the nurse drew back into the alcove shadows. Seating herself in a vacant chair on the opposite side from Hugh and waiting a few seconds, the girl made a very slight motion that revealed her presence.