Brandon of the Engineers

"You're feverish now," Clare answered quietly. "I mustn't let you talk so

much."

"You're as bad as Jake; he wouldn't answer my questions," Dick grumbled.

"Then, you see, I want to talk."

Clare laughed, as if she found it a relief to do so. "That doesn't matter

if it will do you harm."

"I'll be very quiet," Dick pleaded. "I'll only speak a word or two now

and then. But don't go away!"

Clare sat down, and after a few minutes Dick resumed: "You passed my door

to-day, and it's curious that I knew your step, though, if you can

understand, without actually recognizing it. It was as if I was dreaming

something that was real. The worst of being ill is that your brain gets

working independently, bringing things up on its own account, without

your telling it. Anyhow, I remembered the iron steps with the glow of the

window through the curtain, and how you slipped--you wore little white

shoes, and the moonlight shone through the branches on your dress."

He broke off and frowned, for a vague, unpleasant memory obtruded itself.

Something that had had disastrous consequences had happened in the quiet

garden, but he could not remember what it was.

"Why did Lucille call you ma mignonne?" he asked. "Doesn't it mean a

petted child?"

"Not always. She was my nurse when I was young."

"Then you have lived here before?"

"Not here, but in a country where there are people like Lucille, though

it's long ago. But you mustn't speak another word. Go to sleep at once!"

"Then stay where I can see you and I'll try," Dick answered; and although

he did not mean to do so, presently closed his eyes.

Clare waited until his quiet breathing showed that he was asleep, and

then crossed the floor softly and stood looking down on him. There was

light enough to see his face and it was worn and thin. His weakness moved

her to pity, but there was something else. He had remembered that night

in England, he knew her step and voice, and his rambling talk had caused

her a thrill, for she remembered the night in England well. Brandon had

shielded her from a man whom she had good ground for wishing to avoid. He

had, no doubt, not quite understood the situation, but had seen that she

needed help and chivalrously offered it. She knew he could be trusted and

had without much hesitation made her unconventional request. He had then

been marked by strong vitality and cheerful confidence, but he was ill

and helpless now, and his weakness appealed to her as his vigor had not

done. He was, in a way, dependent on her, and Clare felt glad this was

so. She blushed as she smoothed the coverlet across his shoulders and

then quietly stole away.