"But, Inez, surely you trusted me?" came the suave tones of expostulation from her husband. "Trusted you, my knight? Have I not trusted you this day with my soul, with my whole life? You have been so near to death's door, and I have been so near to losing you, that I fear now, every moment you are out of my sight." "Oh, I don't think there is any danger," he said, laughing. "I am strong enough now, though I daresay I should never have pulled through without such a plucky nurse." "Ah, yes," she said. "I can shut my eyes and see you now, how frightfully ill and worn you were, when you came to my father's house that night, three months ago, invalided home from India." "Yes," he said. "It was the greatest stroke of luck in my life that I should have lost my way and have been obliged to beg your hospitality for the night." "And then the fever. The next morning you were delirious. For days you knew nothing, understood nothing, yet you talked, talked, always." Colonel Darcy shifted uneasily. "One generally does that," he said. "The raving of delirium." "You said things that meant nothing usually. But one name you were always repeating, a strange English name of a woman." "And it was?" he murmured, stroking her hair. "Belle. La Belle, I think you meant. And the other name, I do not remember. It sounded harsh, and I did not like it." He laughed nervously. "There is nothing for you to be jealous about, _cara mia_," he said. "It was the name of a playmate of my childhood. I had not heard or thought of it for years. But that is the way in fever. The forgotten things, the things of no importance come uppermost in the mind." "And then," she went on, "came that happy day when you knew us, and then you grew stronger and better, and I realised that you would be going away from us for ever." "Did you think?" he asked softly, "that I could ever have forgotten my nurse?" "I had been unhappy and very lonely. I feared to hope for joy again, till the day that you told me you loved me." And she hid her face on his shoulder to hide her blushes. "Come," he said. "We must think of the present. I have a little surprise for you. I have been going over my affairs, and I do not think it will be necessary to take you away from home for so long a time as I had first thought. I hope that in six months we may be able to return." "Oh!" she cried. "That is indeed good news! I dread your England. It is so far away, and so strange." "I shall try to teach you to love it. But we must be returning to the house. Our guests will miss us." "Oh, yes," she replied. "I meant to have told you. The president of some great manufacturing company has arrived to pay his respects, and is anxious to speak with you." CHAPTER II WANTED--A CHAPERON