He sat down on the seat beside Pixie, and laid his hand gently over hers. They opened automatically to receive it; even before she lifted her lids he felt the welcoming touch; and felt it characteristic of her nature.
“You!” she cried gladly, “Mr Vaughan, ’tis you! Oh, that’s nice! Was I sleeping, that I didn’t see you come? I thought I should never sleep again. Jack can’t sleep! If he slept he might get well.”
“He is sleeping now,” said Stanor quietly. “A man was sent to the lodge to answer all inquiries, so that there should not be even a crunch on the path. He is sleeping soundly and well. If he sleeps on—”
Pixie nodded, her face aglow.
“Oh, thank God! How I thank Him! Sleep will make all the difference. ... Till now it’s been nothing but a moment’s nap and awake again, with a scream. We’ve agonised for sleep! I could not have gone off so soundly if I hadn’t known, inside, that Jack was asleep too. When you love anyone very, very much, what touches them touches you. You can’t keep apart. You mayn’t always know it with your mind, but the best part of you, the part that feels, it knows!”
She smiled in his face with frank, glad eyes, but Stanor flushed and looked at the ground.
“Should you know it, if I were unhappy, Pixie? I should know it about you. I came this afternoon partly, mostly, because I knew how you’d be feeling, and I thought, I hoped, that I might help. Does it help you, Pixie, to have me sitting beside you, instead of being alone? Ought I to have come, or stayed away?”
“I’m glad you came; I love to have you. I’ve been sad before this, but I’ve never been sad by myself! Esmeralda isn’t my sister at this moment, she’s just Jack’s mother, and there’s only one person who can help her, and that is Jack’s father. Later on ’twill change!” A flash of joy lit up the white face. “Do you know what I’m waiting for? If Jack lives, as soon as he’s conscious and out of pain he’ll send for me! He’ll want me to tell him stories, and the stronger he grows the more stories he’ll want! He’ll need me then—they’ll all need me!”
“Of course they’ll need you. Other people need you, Pixie, besides your relations. Why do you always go back to them? I was speaking of myself. I need you! I’ve felt all at sea without you these last days. I never met a girl like you before. Most girls are all one way or another—so serious that they’re dull, or so empty-headed that it’s a waste of time to talk to them. You—you are such a festive little thing, Pixie; a fellow could never be dull in your company, and yet you’re so good! You have such sweet thoughts; you are so unselfish, so kind.”
“Go on!” cried Pixie urgently. “Go on!” Her cheeks had flushed, her eyes sparkled with animation. “It’s the most reviving thing in the world to hear oneself praised, I could listen to it for hours. In what particular way, now, would you say that I was ‘sweet?’”