ause you would not see
me. And Mother would tell me only so very little. I didn't even know
you had been ill.' She pressed his hand between her own. 'But this, you
know, is very, very naughty--you will catch cold, you bad thing. What
would Mother say?'

'I think we mustn't tell her, dear. I couldn't help it; I felt much I
wanted to see you. I have been rather miserable.'

'Why?' she said, stroking his hand from wrist to fingertips with one
soft finger. 'You mustn't be miserable. You and me have never done such
a thing before; have we? Was it that wretched old Flu?'

It was too dark in the little fragrant room even to see her face so
close to his own. And yet he feared. 'Dr Simon,' she went on softly,
'said it was. But isn't your voice a little hoarse, and it sounds so
melancholy in the dark. And oh'--she squeezed his wrist--'you have grown
so thin! You do frighten me. Whatever should I do if you were really
ill? And it was so odd, dear. When first I woke I seemed to be still
straining my eyes in a dream, at such a curious, haunting face--not very
nice. I am glad, I am glad you were here.'

'What was the dream-face like?' came the muttered question.

'Dark and sharp, and rather dwelling eyes; you know those long faces one
sees in dreams: like a hawk, like a conjuror's.'

Like a conjuror's!--it was the first unguarded and ungarbled criticism.
'Perhaps, dear, if you find my voice different, and my hand shrunk up,
you will find my face changed, too--like a conjuror's.... What then?'

She laughed gaily and tenderly. 'You silly silly; I should love you more
than ever. Your hands are icy cold. I can't warm them nohow.'

Lawford held tight his daughter's hand. 'You do love me, Alice? You
would not turn against me, whatever happened? Ah, you shall see, you
shall see.' A sudden burning hope sprang up in him. Surely when all was
well again, these last few hours would not have been spent in vain.
Like the shadow of death they had been, against whose darkness the green
familiar earth seems beautiful as the plains of paradise. Had he but
realized before how much he loved her--what years of life had been
wasted in leaving it all unsaid! He came back from his reverie to find
his hand wet with her tears. He stroked her hair, and touched gently her
eyelids without speaking.

'You will let me come in to-morrow?' she pleaded; 'you won't keep me
out?'

'Ah, but, dear, you must remember your mother. She gets so anxious, and
every