"Yes, they promised."
"Both of them, eh?"
"Yes, I hope so!" The sick man broke into eager explanations. "I only
want to see her, Langholm! That's all I want. I don't want her to
myself. What is the good? To see her and be with her is all I
want--ever. It has made me so happy. It is really better than if she
came alone. You see, as it is, I can't say anything--that matters. Do
you see?"
"Perfectly," said Langholm, gently.
The lad lay gazing up at him with great eyes. Langholm fancied their
expression was one of incredulity. Twilight was falling early with the
rain; the casement was small, and further contracted by an overgrowth of
creeper; those two great eyes seemed to shine the brighter through the
dusk. Langholm could not make his visit a very short one, after all. He
felt it would be cruel.
"What did you talk about, then?" he asked.
A small smile came with the answer, "You!"
"Me! What on earth had you to say about me?"
"I heard all you had been doing."
"Oh, that."
"You know you didn't tell me, that evening in town."
"No, I was only beginning, then."
It seemed some months ago--more months since that very afternoon.
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