He turned the white face upward and gazed into it long, lingeringly, lovingly. There was a wistful, yearning look about his mouth, a twitching at the corners that spoke of a suffering to which he had never given expression, and which was no longer to be endured, and then—he couldn't help it, perhaps—he bent his head and pressed his lips upon hers.
She would never know; she was unconscious, he told himself; but as he lifted his head with the wild, passionate expression of self-loathing burning in his eyes, he saw Jessica and her mother standing in the door-way.
[CHAPTER XII.]
Perhaps of the three conscious ones, Jessica was the first to recover herself.
A sort of fear that seemed to turn her cold from feet to brow oppressed Mrs. Chalmers, and she stood there white-lipped, stunned, in presence of that unnamed terror, while her daughter went forward, a smile that was almost playful making her treacherous lips beautiful.
"Leith, really Leith!" she cried sweetly. "What man but you ever could turn up in this most unexpected fashion, or this most welcome one? Was it your sudden coming that has upset Carlita? These Southern women are so easily affected. Mamma, can't you ring for Carlita's maid? Here is poor Leith holding her in his arms as if she were a china doll, which he feared to drop lest it should break. Has she really fainted, or is it only one of her pretty affectations because of the picturesque comfort of the position?"
"I am afraid I was a little abrupt in breaking some startling news to her," answered Leith, quietly, thankful for once for the incessant flow of Jessica's words. "Poor little girl! I am very sorry for her."
"Really? What was it?"