As the echo
died away, the old grandfather's clock on the landing boomed out three
portentously solemn chimes. It was followed almost immediately by a
cheery, impertinent little clock, insisting that it was four and almost
time for sunrise.
The nurse stirred in her chair, yawned, and came over to the bed. She
straightened the blankets with a practised hand, changed his hot pillow
for a fresh one, brought him a drink of cool water, and went back to her
chair without having said a word. The gentle ministry comforted him
insensibly. What magic there was in the touch of a woman's hand! But, in
the long grey years ahead, there would be no woman, unless--Isabel--
Sometime that afternoon, or early in the evening, she had received his
note. It was not strange that they had not allowed her to come to see
him, because no one had seen him but the doctors and nurses. Even Aunt
Francesca, whom he had known all his life, had not darkened his open
door.
But now, Isabel would come--she could not help but come. With the
passing of the fateful hour, strength began to return slowly.
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