'Mildred, I was there and heard it. What he called you, I mean. Darling—darling, I am so glad,' breaking off with a half-sob and suddenly closing her in her arms.
For a moment Mildred seemed embarrassed.
'Dear Ethel, what do you mean? what could you have heard?'
'That he called you by your name. I heard his voice; it was quite enough; it told me everything, and then I closed the door. Oh, Mildred! to think he has come to an end of his blindness and that he loves you at last.'
'Yes; does it not seem wonderful?' returned Mildred, simply. Her fair face was still a little flushed, her eyes were soft and radiant; in her happiness she looked almost lovely. Ethel knelt down beside her in a little effusion of girlish worship and sympathy.
'Did he tell you how beautiful you are, Mildred? No, you shall let me talk what nonsense I like to-night. I do not know when I have felt so happy. Does Richard know?'
'No one knows.'
'Am I the first to wish you joy then, Mildred? I never was so glad about anything before. I could sing aloud in my gladness all the way from here to Kirkleatham.'
'Dear Ethel, this is so like you.'
'To think of the misery of mind you have both caused me, and now that it has come all right at last. Is he very penitent, Mildred?'