“No news of Grimbald?”
“None.”
Her deep voice thrilled him, but he stirred uneasily upon the bed.
“I have gained strength to-day.”
“Do not waste it, then, lord,” she answered him.
His eyes pleaded with her like the eyes of a dog.
“Give me a hand, Denise; I will try if I can stand.”
“No; why, you will but open your wounds again.”
“My thoughts are more to me than my wounds, Denise.”
He struggled up suddenly before she could hinder him, only to turn faint and dizzy, for the blood fell from his brain. He swayed, and went grey as Denise’s gown.