She was in his arms before he could move. Madame de Morteyn clung to her, too, sobbing convulsively; Dorothy hid her face in her black-edged handkerchief.
After a moment Lorraine stepped back, drying her sweet eyes. Dorothy kissed her again and again.
"I—I don't see why we should cry," said Lorraine, while the tears ran down her flushed cheeks. "If he had died it would have been different."
After a silence she said again:
"You will see. We are not unhappy—Jack and I. Monsieur Grahame came yesterday with Rickerl, who is doing very well."
"Rickerl here, too?" whispered Dorothy.
Lorraine slipped an arm through hers, looking back at the old people.
"Come," she said, serenely, "Jack is able to sit up." Then in Dorothy's ear she whispered, "I dare not tell them—you must."
"Dare not tell them—"
"That—that I married Jack—this morning."