Quitting the subject then, Dane went off into talk that would not even remind her of it, unless by some delicate chain of association. He gave her the story of his two months. The sick people had been at the first removed to the end of the valley, in some shanties apart from all the rest; and there he and they had been in quarantine together. There the fearful disease had seized one after another of that little band of poor Germans last-arrived, till ten of them were down with it at once. Everybody fled the spot; would not come near enough even to receive messages; and not for love nor money could help be got for nursing. Only old Gyda; and she and Rollo had had it all to do between them; even to washing the clothes the sick persons wore or had on their beds. Dr. Arthur of course had done all he could, but he had other sick beds to attend to; it was out of the question that he should devote himself solely to those at the end of the Hollow; especially as every visit there made needful a careful disinfecting and purifying process before he could approach anybody else, sick or well. Rollo and Gyda had struggled on together, one watching while the other slept. And so Dane would go from one sick-bed to the next, till he had made the round, and begin again; through it all thinking of what he had left at Chickaree, and of Hazel's pleadings that he had been obliged to disallow, scarce daring to think of the possible joy of going back to her again when the distress should be over. For he could not tell that it would ever be over without first laying himself as low as those whom he tended. The shanties where the sick lay, little better than sheds, had been very good for them but very trying sometimes to the watchers. However, the abundance of fresh air, and the careful quarantine, with a blessing upon the means used, had availed. No outsider had caught the infection, and only two of the sick had died. Those two, Rollo and Arthur had buried, alone and by night.
Softly, slowly, as a man who felt deeply the shadow of fear under which he had been passing and from out of which he had come, Dane told Hazel all this. And as one hears the verification of some fearful dream, so Hazel listened. She had taken her foot-cushion again, and sat with varying colour and averted eyes, and now and then a "yes" of full intelligence. For the scanty details she had received from time to time, had been more than filled out by her imagination; and point by point she seemed to know the story before it was told. By and by one hand came upon the arm of Rollo's chair, and then she leaned her forehead down against that hand, and so sat when the story was finished. Once or twice a quick shiver went over her; otherwise she was quite still.
'I was not unhappy, Wych,' said Dane after a little pause. 'My latent longing for you it is impossible to tell; but I could not let it come to the front then. And there is a walk and a place "with Jesus only," which at the time is joyful, and on looking back to it seems to have wanted nothing.'
Her head stirred a little; presently, she answered,'I did not think you were unhappy. If I had, I believe it would have been a help sometimes.'
'Hey?a help? How?'
'You would not have seemed so far off. And I should not have seemed so much alone.'
'That was a mistake, Hazel.'
'I only said it seemed so. But there was a certain truth in it, too; because happy people never do guess exactly what goes on in the rest of the world.'
'Pray, do the unhappy people?'
But Hazel caught the sound of steps, and started away from her foot-cushion time enough to meet Dr. Arthur midway in the room.