"Dear Miss Ward, please drink this; it will warm you and do you good." Thorold spoke in a clear, persuasive voice. But as Waveney opened her eyes, the tears were rolling down her small white face.
"Why did you rouse me?" she said, with a little sob. "I was dreaming, and it was so lovely. I was sitting with my Mollie, and we were laughing and talking together. Oh, Mollie, Mollie!" And here a fit of bitter weeping seemed to shake her from head to foot. No power on earth could have hindered the flow of those tears.
For one moment Thorold almost lost his calmness.
"Waveney, my dear child, hush!" he said, hoarsely, "you will make yourself ill. Why are you so hopeless? It is often darkest just before the dawn." And then his hand rested for a moment lightly on her head. "How do you know that your sister's life may not be spared? and then all these tears may have been needlessly shed. Child, do not lose your faith. God may be dealing mercifully with you and yours."
He spoke in a voice of intense feeling; then he gently raised her from the cushions, and held the cup to her lips.
"You must drink this," he said, very quietly and gently. And Waveney checked her tears and obeyed him.
"There, you are better now," he said, in a tone of relief, when the cup was empty.
"Yes," she whispered. "Thank you, for being so good and patient. I ought not to have troubled you so."
"Troubled?" returned Thorold, in a low, suppressed voice, "when there is nothing on earth that I would not do for you, my darling!" The last words were scarcely audible. Then he bit his lip, and rose hastily. What was he doing? He had forgotten himself. The sight of her tears, the anguish in her beautiful eyes, had utterly unnerved him. For the moment he had been oblivious of everything but her suffering, and his great love; and words of tenderness had forced themselves to his lips.
Good heavens! what had he done? And here he paced the room in agitation; but a glance at the easy-chair reassured him. Poor child! she was so dazed, so confused, that probably the words had not reached her ears. If they had--and here he frowned, and stared at the fire in perplexity--if, fool that he was, he had betrayed himself! And then, in spite of his self-reproach, a gleam of joy crossed his face. What if she had understood him, and knew, without doubt, that she was the darling of his heart!