"A flame! Her clear soul's essence slips,
To steep for aye with mine, from her fast-whitening lips!"
Several days passed before these two who, hand in hand, had looked death in the face, and felt his chill breath freezing up the current of their lives, again saw one another. Graham, after twenty-four hours, was able to be about, looking pale and ill. The congestive chill which had overcome him was the result of his having plunged into the sea while very much over-heated. The water at San Real, and indeed all along the Pacific coast, is very much colder than at the Eastern watering places of a corresponding latitude, where the genial influence of the Gulf Stream is felt. His vigorous constitution quickly threw off the effects of the terrible experience; but three long days and nights wore themselves out before Millicent's light step sounded on the stairs. Mrs. Shallop and Barbara were sitting alone at the luncheon table, when the latter caught the sound of the well-known footfall; she hastily left the room, and running up the stairs passed her arm about the feeble girl, supporting her into the room.
"Why did you not tell me that you were coming? Do you think it prudent, dear?"
"Yes, I wanted to come, and the doctor said I should do whatever I fancied," she answered a little fretfully; then she smiled, with that flashing of the eyes that always won her pardon for any little sin. It was a strange coincidence, Barbara thought, that Millicent should have come downstairs for the first time on the morning when Graham had gone to San Francisco. It was his first absence since the beginning of their visit. Why should she avoid meeting the man whose life she had saved at the risk of her own? Graham had every day begged to see her, but Millicent had not felt equal to the interview. Barbara was genuinely puzzled; but then Barbara was often puzzled by Millicent. During the days just past her gentle care and nursing had brought her much nearer to Millicent than she had been before. In those long mornings when Barbara, in a full, deep voice, read to her from her favorite books, Millicent had time to think more about her new friend; and the more she thought about her the better she liked the sweet, sound, womanly nature, with its domestic instincts, and maternal care of all creatures sick or sorry. One morning, as the invalid lay upon her couch, while Barbara's gentle hands plaited her long hair in thick strands, she said, somewhat abruptly,--
"Barbara, why have you not married?"
"What an odd question!"
"If you knew what a charming wife you would make, you would think the question a most natural one. I suppose you have been in love?"
"I suppose so," jestingly.
"Bah! talk seriously for a moment with me. Why do you not marry Ferrara? The poor fellow is perfectly pathetic in his devotion to you. You know, Barbara, that matrimony would suit you delightfully; there is nothing so becoming to a woman of your type as the background of a home of her own. There you would shine like Jessica's candle in this naughty world."
"I have never thought about it in the way of a background."