Carolyn came no more to his room. Sometimes he heard her voice when a door opened, or he could hear her singing far off somewhere.
Frequently the crow was allowed to come to the chamber, where he would gravely amuse himself by hopping over the floor, occasionally picking at something; or he would sit on the top of a chair and look at the man on the bed.
At last Lawrence could go down-stairs and sit in the sun on the lawn, the shadow of a man, his long, bony frame stretched out, his gaunt face and great eyes turned towards the shining blue water.
Every day he told himself that perhaps the next day he could go away. He was longing to work; he felt the springs of life and strength slowly rising within him. Happiness was not for him, but there was work.
One day Mrs. Ffolliott came across the grass and sat down beside him. Indeed, she often did this, but he thought there was something special in her manner just now.
"You're getting very much stronger and better, aren't you, Rodney?" she asked.
"Oh, yes; I shall soon be all right," was the reply. "And I shall go away as soon as I can. How good you've been to me!"
"Don't mention such a thing. Rodney—"
The speaker paused. She looked uneasily about her.
"Caro says it's time you were told," she went on, and then stopped again.