“She has not been looking ill—as at dinner to-night?”
“No. That was sudden.”
And then with a strange, absolutely new, almost delicious sense of the strong man weakly depending upon her for comfort, she said timidly,—
“You mustn't be unhappy. She may have been longing for you to come back—for she loves you—and this evening—she is very delicate, you know. Sometimes when I am with her, she seems so fragile—she will be better to-morrow—and you will be happy.”
“Ah! Thank you, Felicia,” said Raine, greatly moved. “I wish—I wish you would let me kiss you for it.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He stooped, and touched her cheek with his lips, and then strode away feeling somehow stronger and serener.
And Felicia remained on the balcony deep in thought, her girlish love purified by the brotherly kiss.