'Don't go!' he said, peremptorily, to Carrie, raising his hand. 'Stand as you were before.'
'You don't want me?' asked Phoebe, startled, her pale cheeks suddenly pink.
'Yes, yes, I do!' he said, impatiently. 'For God's sake, don't move, either of you!'
He went back for an easel, then sat down and began to paint.
They held themselves as still as mice. Carrie could see her mother's hands trembling on her lap.
Suddenly Fenwick said, in emotion:
'I don't know how it is—but I see much better than I did.'
Miss Anna looked up from the low wall on which she was sitting.
'The doctor said you would, John, when you got strong,' she put in, quickly. 'He said you'd been suffering from your eyes a long time without knowing it. It was nerves like the rest.'
Fenwick said nothing. He went on painting, painting fast and
freely—for nearly an hour. All the time Phoebe could hardly breathe.
It was as though she felt the doors opening upon a new room in the
House of Life.