“I am so happy to see you here. And I am glad the silence is at an end and I am able to tell you so.”
“Thank you,” said John, and he tried to pass him.
“I always knew you would come to us—that is to say, after the night I heard you at the hospital—the night of the Nurses' Ball, you remember, and the Father's visit, you know. Still, I trust there was nothing wrong—nothing at the hospital, I mean——”
John was fumbling for the door to the dormer.
“Everybody loved you too—the patients and the nurses and everybody! How they will miss you there! I trust you left everybody well—and happy and—eh?”
“Good-night,” said John from the head of the stair.
There was silence for a moment, and then the brother said, in another voice:
“Yes, I understand you. I know quite well what you mean. It is a fault to speak of the outer world except on especial need. We have taken the vows, too, and are pledged for life—I am, at all events. Still, if you could have told me anything—— But I am much to blame. I must confess my fault and do my penance.”
John was diving down the stair and hurrying into his room.
“God help him!” he thought. “And me too! God help both of us! How am I to live if I have to hide this secret? Yet how is he to live if he learns it?”