"Thank you; it is meant
kindly, but I would rather not speak of this, even to you--at least for
some time."
His self-command carried him through bravely, but it only just lasted
out. Then he turned his head aside and threw his arm across it. As I
drew back to the window, I saw the quivering of the long, emaciated
fingers that veiled his face. I did not look again till Guy's voice
called to me, quite composedly, for I did not dare to pry into or meddle
with the secrets of the strong heart that knew its own bitterness so
well.
I told Lady Catharine what had passed. She was very much relieved to
hear that it was all over. She never opened her lips on the subject to
her son; indeed, though those two understood each other thoroughly,
there were wonderfully few confidences between them.
Guy's convalescence was slow--far slower than we had hoped for. It
seemed as if some spring was broken in his being not easily to be
replaced. He was moody and listless always, speaking very seldom; but
his words and manner, when he did talk, were gentler and more kindly
than I ever remembered them.
One of his first visitors was Colonel Mohun. He had been incessant in
his inquiries, and had offered to share our watching, but Lady Catharine
would not hear of it.
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