"Hush," she whispered, and he saw something shining in her eyes,
and something wet fell upon his face. "She is returning--and I
will go. For three days and nights she has not slept, and she must
be the first to see you open your eyes."
She bent over him. Her soft lips touched his forehead, and he
heard her sobbing breath.
"God bless you, David Carrigan!"
Then she was going to the door, and his eyes dropped shut again.
He began to experience pain now, a hot, consuming pain all over
him, and he remembered the fight through the path of the fire.
Then the door opened very softly once more, and some one came in,
and knelt down at his side, and was so quiet that she scarcely
seemed to breathe. He wanted to open his eyes, to cry out a name,
but he waited, and lips soft as velvet touched his own. They lay
there for a moment, then moved to his closed eyes, his forehead,
his hair--and after that something rested gently against him.
His eyes shot open. It was Marie-Anne, with her head nestled in
the crook of his arm as she knelt there beside him on the floor.
He could see only a bit of her face, but her hair was very near,
crumpled gloriously on his breast, and he could see the tips of
her long lashes as she remained very still, seeming not to
breathe.
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