But this was like groping in a morgue—and it must stop. He rose half erect from his bed, shaking himself like one who tries to clamber back from the slough of evil dreams. Just at this moment a knock came to the door; his soul leaped towards the sound—it was a human touch at least, thank God, and he needed some such Blucher for such a Waterloo.
"Come in," he said huskily, lest reinforcement of any sort whatever might escape.
And she came. Without a word, but her whole being fragrant of sympathy and love, she moved unhesitatingly towards the bed. She caught, as she came nearer, the fateful fumes. And she knew—the most innocent are the most sensitive to the breath of sin—but her heart only melted with a tenderer compassion, her arms outstretched in yearning, taking the stalwart frame into what seemed to him like the very guardianship of God.
"Oh, Harvey," the voice thrilling with the melody of love; "oh, my brother."
He clung closer to her, without speaking.
"Tell me, Harvey—won't you tell me?" He could feel the care-wrung bosom heaving.
Still no word.
"We've never had any secrets, brother—won't you tell me, Harvey?"
"You know," after a long pause.
Still silence. Why did she breathe so fast?