"It is I, Nancy Newton. I was so surprised to see you without your bandages that it quite took my breath away. Nor did I realize you were strong enough to leave your quarters."
Goddard's sad face had brightened, and he made a hesitating step forward. "My orderly brought me over here, as I wished to say good-bye to Colonel Edwards. I am practicing finding my way about alone." He turned directly toward the Confederate, who, watching with breathless interest, was waiting to take his cue from Nancy.
"Won't you sit by me over here?" Nancy went forward, and gently piloted Goddard to the sofa by the window. She turned and nodded her head toward the open door, and with catlike quickness the Confederate stole from the room, closing the door behind him. Nancy's knees shook under her, and she sank on the sofa by Goddard, trembling in every limb.
"I have waited in my rooms all day long, hoping you would come." Goddard reached over, and felt about for Nancy's hand, and she placed her cold fingers reluctantly in his. "Are you having a chill?" he asked, alarmed.
"Oh, no; my hands are always cold," with well-simulated lightness; then she hastened to change the subject. "I am glad you are so much better."
"Thanks. Doctor Scott is very much encouraged by my improvement, and insists on my going to Washington to-morrow. He says I must see Doctor Boyd."
"And he is right."
"I know." Goddard hesitated. "I should have gone last week, but—but—I could not bear to leave you."
Nancy flushed warmly. "Aunt Metoaca and I return to Washington on the same train with you. So you see we will not be separated—yet."
"God! how I wish it could be never, my darling!" The words seemed wrung from Goddard. His face laid bare his secret. Then pulling himself up abruptly: "I—I—ask your pardon—Miss Nancy—pay no heed. For the moment I forgot—my blindness. What I would ask in happier circumstances cannot be spoken now."