"
He looked at her in silence a moment, then asked her why. The tears rose
brimming in her eyes--her hands still in his.
"Hugh--I--I--have always loved Oliver Marsham--and I--cannot think of
any one else. You know what has happened?"
He saw the sob swelling in her white throat.
"Yes!" he said, passionately. "It is horrible. But you cannot go to
him--you cannot marry him. He was a coward when he should have stood by
you. He cannot claim you now."
She withdrew her hands.
"No!" The passion in her voice matched his own. "But I would give the
world if he could--and would!"
There was a pause. Steadily the woman gained upon her own weakness and
beat it down. She resumed:
"I must tell you--because--it is the only way--for us two--to be real
friends again--and I want a friend so much. The news of Oliver is--is
terrible. The Vicar had just seen Mr. Lankester--who is staying there.
He is nearly blind--and the pain!" Her hand clinched--she threw her head
back. "Oh! I can't speak of it! And it may go on for years. The doctors
seem to be all at sea. They say he _ought_ to recover--but they doubt
whether he will. He has lost all heart--and hope--he can't help himself.
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