He spoke in a voice of intense feeling; then he gently raised her from the cushions, and held the cup to her lips. "You must drink this," he said, very quietly and gently. And Waveney checked her tears and obeyed him. "There, you are better now," he said, in a tone of relief, when the cup was empty. "Yes," she whispered. "Thank you, for being so good and patient. I ought not to have troubled you so." "Troubled?" returned Thorold, in a low, suppressed voice, "when there is nothing on earth that I would not do for you, my darling!" The last words were scarcely audible. Then he bit his lip, and rose hastily. What was he doing? He had forgotten himself. The sight of her tears, the anguish in her beautiful eyes, had utterly unnerved him. For the moment he had been oblivious of everything but her suffering, and his great love; and words of tenderness had forced themselves to his lips. Good heavens! what had he done? And here he paced the room in agitation; but a glance at the easy-chair reassured him. Poor child! she was so dazed, so confused, that probably the words had not reached her ears. If they had--and here he frowned, and stared at the fire in perplexity--if, fool that he was, he had betrayed himself! And then, in spite of his self-reproach, a gleam of joy crossed his face. What if she had understood him, and knew, without doubt, that she was the darling of his heart! But he would not trust himself to be alone with her any longer. He sent for a cab, and then went up to Joanna's room for an old fur-lined cloak, that he knew hung in her wardrobe. A few minutes later, when he returned to the room, the cloak was over his arm. Waveney was still in the same position, lying back on the cushions, with closed eyes, and listless hands folded on her lap. But at the sound of his step, she struggled into a sitting posture. "Have you come for me? May I go, now?" she asked, in a weak little voice. But he noticed that the colour had returned to her lips. "Yes," he said, quietly. "The cab is here. But you must let me wrap you in this cloak, for it is bitterly cold outside, and this room is so warm." Then she stood up without a word, and allowed him to put it round her; then, still silently, he drew her hand through his arm, and led her slowly down the little courtyard. For some minutes no word passed between them. Thorold pulled up the windows. Then he wrapped the old cloak a little closer round her, and stooped to bring it under her feet. As he did so she put out her hand to stop him. "Oh, please--please do not trouble about me so," she said, in a distressed tone. "I am quite warm now. You are so kind, and I cannot even thank you?" Then, with a sudden impulse, he took her hand, and held it firmly.