When Margarita came to herself after an hour or so, she asked for me, and as I knelt by her bed and she turned her great eyes on me I caught my breath, for I was looking at a new woman. I can't describe it better than by saying that she had a soul! There had always been something missing, you see, though I would never have admitted it, if she hadn't got it then. But it was there. It was very pathetic, those first days when Roger was delirious: she was nearly so herself. And yet it was not wholly grief--there was a definite reason for it, which we all felt, somehow, but she would not give it. "Will he not know me for a minute, a little minute, Harriet?" she would beg, so piteously, and Harriet would soothe her and try to give her hope. The fifth day he was very low and the doctor told us to make up our minds for anything: he hadn't slept all night. I took Harriet by the shoulders and asked her if she could not possibly make him conscious--before. I don't know why I asked her and not the doctor, but I did. She promised me she would try (I think she had nearly given up hope, herself) and at three the next morning she called me and said that I might have a chance--that he might know us for a moment. Margarita was by the bed: her face was enough to break your heart. "Only a minute, Harriet--only a little minute!" she pleaded like a baby. I don't know what insane vow I didn't offer ... He opened his eyes and they fell on her. She put her hand on his forehead and said very plainly. "Listen, Roger, you must listen. It is I--Margarita, _Cherie_, you know. Do you hear?" His eyes looked a little conscious, and Harriet held his pulse and slipped something into his mouth. In a moment we all knew that he knew us. "Now say one thing, Mrs. Bradley--quickly!" Harriet whispered. Margarita bent like a flash and whispered in his ear very swiftly: her whole body was tense. You should have seen his eyes--he was old Roger again! I could see his hand press hers and she kissed him just as the flash went by, and he took to muttering again. Harriet pushed her away and put her hand on his forehead, then nodded at the deaconess. "Call the doctor!" she said sharply, and I thought it was all over.... But it was the turn, and after that by hair's breadths and hair's breadths they pulled him over. "Now he knows, Jerry," Margarita said to me, and went to bed herself. It was a good week after that, when the doctor had gone and we were all breathing naturally again, that Harriet asked me abruptly if I had noticed Mrs. Bradley's voice. I said yes, that it was still decidedly husky. She looked at me so sadly, so strangely, that my nerves fairly jumped--we had all been on edge for a month--and I commanded her rather sharply to say what she meant and be done with it. "Is her voice injured?" "I am afraid so, yes," she said gently. "But surely time and rest and proper treatment," I began, but she shook her head.