So sanguine had been his hopes, he had not seriously considered the latter possibility. The more he meditated on the thought of failing in his suit, the more wretched became his condition of mind. The torrent of words that he 301 had come to speak slowly deserted his tongue until when Jane entered, a quarter of an hour later, wreathed in smiles, he was dumb with terror.
“She’s ever so much better than I expected to find her,” began his sister without preamble. “An’ she was so glad to see me, poor soul! You can go up now with the nurse; only don’t stay too long.”
“Did you tell her——” began the discomfited Martin.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” Jane replied, “except that I was going to take her home with me in a day or two.”
“Doesn’t she know I’m here?”
“No.”
“You don’t know, then, whether she——”
“I don’t know anything, Martin,” Jane replied, nevertheless beaming on him with a radiant smile. “An’ if I did I certainly shouldn’t tell you. You an’ Lucy must settle your affairs yourselves.”
With this dubious encouragement and palpitating with uneasiness, Martin was forced to tiptoe out of the room in the wake of his white-robed conductor. As he walked down the long, quiet hall, he said to himself that every 302 step was bringing him nearer to the crisis when he must speak, and still no words came to his lips. When, however, he turned from the dinginess of the passageway into the sunny little room where Lucy lay, he forgot everything but Lucy herself.
She was resting against the pillows, her hair unbound, and her cheeks flushed to crimson. Never had she looked so beautiful. He stopped on the threshold, awed by the wonder of her maidenhood. Then he heard her voice.