“More than fond, that’s why I came to Sheba. I didn’t mean to let her know that I’d ever been here; that last evening we met by accident. I was a fool to have come. I’ve been unfair to her--unfair to everybody.” He did not answer me; he could not deny my assertion. “You remember what you said this afternoon--that I let things out in my delirium. I want to know what they were. I’ve been trying to remember; but it all comes wild and confused. Tell me, did I say anything that would make her ashamed of me--anything that would make her hate me?” He shook his head. “Nothing that would make her hate you. Perhaps, that’s the worst of it.” “Well then, anything that would damage her reputation? Was I brought here only to prevent strangers from listening to what I said, just as you’d shut a mad dog up for safety?” In my feverish suspense, I gained sudden strength and raised myself up on my elbow to face him. He patted me gently on the shoulder, saying, “Lie down; it’s a sick man’s fancy. You’re guessing wide of the mark--it was nothing such as that.” He tucked me up and smoothed out the sheets. “Now stay still and I’ll tell you. You were calling for her when I came to you. At first we didn’t know what you meant; then you mentioned Dorrie. Only Miss Priscilla and I heard what you were saying; you can trust Miss Priscilla not to speak about it. I let Randall know and he brought his wife over with him. Directly she touched you, you grew quiet. It was Randall suggested you being brought here; he was sorry for you and it was kindness made him do it. All through your illness till you came to yourself, Mrs. Carpenter sat by you; whenever she left you, you grew restless. She and her husband saved your life, I guess.” “But what makes them all so strange to me now?” He fidgeted and cleared his throat. “It’s the truth I’m wanting,” I urged. “Randall saw what she meant to you.” “Anything else?” “And what you meant to her.” Against my will a wave of joy throbbed through me. I felt like sobbing from relief and happiness. Then a clear vision of the reality came to me--the great silent man who stared at me for hours, and the high-spirited woman, so suddenly grown timid, stealing in and out the room with averted eyes in pallid meekness. “What ought I to do?” My voice choked me as I asked it.