His face in its sudden flash of animation reflected the permission. He pressed her hand tenderly.
'Was your doctor useful to you?'
'Oh yes; it is hard to think as much of a prescription in Italian as in
English—but that's one's insular way.'
'He thought you no worse?'
'Why should one believe him if he did?' she said evasively. 'No one knows as much as oneself. Ah! there is Lucy. I think you must bid us good-night. I am too tired for talking.'
As he left the room Eleanor settled down happily on her pillow.
'The first and only time!' she thought. 'My heart on his—my arms round his neck. There must be impressions that outlast all others. I shall manage to put them all away at the end—but that.'
When Lucy came in, she declared she was not very much exhausted. As to the doctor she was silent.
But that night, when Lucy had been for some time in bed, and was still sleepless with anxiety and sorrow, the door opened and Eleanor appeared. She was in her usual white wrapper, and her fair hair, now much touched with grey, was loose on her shoulders.
'Oh! can I do anything?' cried Lucy, starting up.