CHAPTER XXXI
CONFESSIONS
A groping hand touched her arm; bandaged fingers sought to feel who she was. Behind her sounded a drowsy incoherent murmur. The snarl of the wolf had roused the sleeper from his torpor.
“Hush––hush!” she whispered. “It is all well. I am here by you. Lie still.”
“Isobel!” he murmured. “Isobel!”
“Yes, dear!” she soothed. “I am here. Rest––go to sleep again. All is well.”
“All is––?” He roused a little more. “You say––Then he is safe! They have brought him up––out of that hell!”
She could not lie outright. “He will soon be safe. By morning help will have come to us. As soon as the men can see to go down, they will descend for him. They will bring him up the way that you have shown us!”
Her voice quivered with pride of what he had done. She drew up his hand and pressed her lips tenderly upon the bandages.
Had the caress been a burn, he could not have more 358 quickly snatched the hand away. He sought to rise, and struck his head against the overhanging rock.