At such times her loving coaxing would fail to soothe him. “False! Fickle! You merely want to add another scalp to your belt! Oh, I could turn savage, too, and bear you away by force and keep you for my own in some wild spot—ah, go away! Go away!”
Helen, smoothing back the dark locks, now dry with fever, felt a superstitious fear in the presence of such pronounced delirium.
“Ervin, your own Helen is here! You know your own little Helen!”
“Heartless girl! I know you at last! I never want to see you again.”
At last the fever abated, the wound began to heal and one lovely morning the dark eyes looked clearly into the blue ones of his devoted nurse. Repressing her tears of joy, she told him of his illness, leading his mind back to the circumstances of his escape. Then, with gentle insistence, she forced him to close his eyes and, holding her hand, he fell into rational sleep. Then the little maid might have been seen slipping to her knees and weeping, as she poured out her gratitude and joy to the Divine Physician.
In the evening she sat by his side again and told him all the news the camp knew. He lay quietly regarding her from his pillows.
“Helen,” he asked, “how long have you been here?”
“To-morrow will be six weeks,” she replied.