“Oh,” she cried to herself, in bitterness of soul, “I had rather have perished than owed my life to him!” And suddenly she burst into the most piteous sobbing Mrs. Cline had ever heard. It was just as though her poor heart were broken, thought the sympathetic soul.
“Ah, dear, dear, what a fool I was, blabbing out everything at once! Now you will get worse for the excitement, and I shall be to blame!” she cried out piteously.
“No, no, I—I—will be calm!” cried Berry, subduing her sobs by a violent effort, as she put out her hand, so frail and white.
“I am better now; I will not give way again. Tell me more.”
“Not to-day, miss—not till I see that my gabbling has no ill effect on you,” Mrs. Cline replied uneasily. But just then there was a light tap on the door that opened into the hall, and when she went to it, there was Bonair, asking anxiously:
“How is our little patient to-day, Mrs. Cline?”
How the musical voice thrilled Berry’s heart, stirring it to subtle rapture! Alas, she did not hate him, after all; she was turning faint and dizzy just with the happiness of hearing him speak again! His faintest whisper made her heart rejoice!
The voice ceased, and she heard Mrs. Cline saying:
“She is getting better fast, sir, but I fear I have talked to her too much to-day, telling her about the night you rescued her, and just now she had a hard fit of crying from excitement.”
“Oh, hush!” cried out Berry imploringly, but the sound of her voice went to his heart, made him reckless; he pushed past Mrs. Cline into the room, crying: