I cannot bear it."
"Just a moment more, Miss Sherwood," the doctor whispered, overhearing the
request "Help me a moment here," he said aloud, "and then you may retire."
She came towards the bed, and complied with his directions, knowing full
well that Hugh's eyes were devouring her face.
"Is it you, Dexie, or your spirit?" the words were low and tremulous, but,
in the stillness of the room, sounded clear and distinct.
"It is I, Mr. McNeil, alive, and well as ever I was."
"Thank God!"
His eyes closed, and with a gesture the doctor dismissed her; then taking
his seat beside the bed, he watched until he was assured that Hugh had
fallen into a natural sleep.
As Dexie left the room, she mentally said a final good-bye to it, feeling
thankful enough that her services would not be needed again to hush the
despairing cries or still the grasping hands that had clutched at space. It
was the last time her eyes rested on Hugh for weeks. She knew he was
recovering, and that was enough.
During his convalescence, Dexie never entered the Gurney household, lest by
some chance she might come face to face with her enemy.
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