The lips moved a little in answer; then again the face glanced down
sideways at the fire; the hands dangled almost helplessly between the
knees.
There was an appearance of weakness about the attitude that astonished
and encouraged her; it appeared as if matters were not yet
consummated. Yet she had a sense of nausea at the sight....
"Laurie?" she said again suddenly.
Again the lips moved as if speaking rapidly, and the eyes looked up at
her quick and suspicious.
"Well?" said the mouth; and still the hands dangled.
"Laurie," she said steadily, bending all her will at the words,
"you're very unwell. Do you understand that?"
Again the noiseless gabbling of the lips, and again a little
commonplace sentence, "I'm all right."
His voice was unnatural--a little hoarse, and quite toneless. It was
as a voice from behind a mask.
"No," said Maggie carefully, "you're not all right. Listen, Laurie. I
tell you you're all wrong; and I've come to help you as well as I can.
Will you do your best? I'm speaking to _you_, Laurie ... to _you_."
Every time he answered, the lips flickered first as in rapid
conversation--as of a man seen talking through a window; but this time
he stammered a little over his vowels.
"I--I--I'm all right."
Maggie leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly, and her eyes fixed
steadily on that baffling face.
"Laurie; it's you I'm speaking to--_you_.... Can you hear me? Do _you_
understand?"
Again the eyes rose quick and suspicious; and her hands knit yet more
closely together as she fought down the rising nausea. She drew a long
breath first; then she delivered a little speech which she had half
rehearsed upstairs. As she spoke he looked at her again.
"Laurie," she said, "I want you to listen to me very carefully, and to
trust me. I know what is the matter with you; and I think you know
too. You can't fight--fight him by yourself.... Just hold on as
tightly as you can to me--with your mind, I mean. Do you understand?"
For a moment she thought that he perceived something of what she
meant: he looked at her so earnestly with those odd questioning eyes.
Then he jerked ever so slightly, as if some string had been suddenly
pulled, and glanced down again at the fire....
"I ... I ... I'm all right," he said.
It was horrible to see that motionlessness of body. He sat there as he
had probably sat since entering the room. His eyes moved, but scarcely
his head; and his hands hung down helplessly.
"Laurie ... attend ..." she began again. Then she broke off.
"Have you prayed, Laurie...? Do you understand what has happened to
you? You aren't really ill--at least, not exactly, but--"
Again those eyes lifted, looked, and dropped again.
It was piteous. For the instant the sense of nausea vanished,
swallowed up in emotion. Why ... why, he was there all the
while--Laurie ... dear Laurie....
With one motion, swift and impetuous, she had thrown herself forward
on to her knees, and clasped at the hanging hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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