Doctor Darrow's practiced eye marked the change in his patient at once, and he started with a low cry of alarm.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, wildly, "what have I done? Oh, Beatrix! Beatrix! do not mind me. I was mad to speak to you of such things now when you are so weak and ill! Forgive me, darling. I will not err in that way again. I promise not to refer to the subject again until you are strong enough to listen."
A faint shudder passed over the sick girl's wasted frame, her eyes shone like stars; but she had made up her mind in a moment that, no matter how it might excite her and retard her recovery, she must speak out now and tell him all—this good, kind heart, this truly noble man who was willing to devote his life to her service, yet knew all her dread secret! And yet how little could he do—could any human being do—to help her!
"Doctor Darrow," she said, laying her little wasted hand upon his arm, "I must speak now. I must tell you the truth and prevent any further misunderstanding. You must not speak to me of love or marriage. Even—even if I were not the afflicted creature that I am, it is wrong, it is sinful to do so; for—I am the wife of another man!"
He started with a low cry, biting his lip until the blood came. All the color faded from his face, and his gray eyes grew black as night with anguish. He turned aside, as though to leave the room; then he came back to the window near which Beatrix was sitting, and sank upon a sofa that stood near. The room was as still as death. He could not collect his thoughts enough to speak. He sat trembling like a leaf. At last:
"I beg you to forgive me," he said, in a shaking voice. "I had no right to speak of such things to you until I had first learned you were free. Of course, no one looking at a child like you would imagine that you were a married woman. I never thought of such a thing. You know that I meant no insult, Beatrix?"
Her great, dark eyes met his gaze with a look of earnest gratitude.
"You? Why, you have saved my life, though that life is not, perhaps, worth saving," she added, sadly. "Oh, Doctor Darrow, you have been so good and kind to me! I can never thank you enough! But, of course, this of which you speak can never be. If you wish, I will tell you my sad story."
"I would be grateful for your confidence," he returned, "and will guard it as sacred. I wish I could help you in this awful trouble. I can only watch you well and study your case, to which I promise to devote all my faculties. I have devoted much of my time to the study of this strange disease and the tests by which its existence in the system is first detected and proven. Ah, well!"—he rose as he spoke, stifling a weary sigh—"at least I shall have that one object left in life. It is something worth living for."
He left the room, and Beatrix was alone with her own dreary thoughts.