Edward reluctantly obeyed, and his brother was left to himself. Little
rest did he find, however, for the pain of the wounded arm grew
unbearable, and, taking a sudden resolution, he rang for his servant.
"Neal, go to Miss Coventry's study, and if Miss Muir is there, ask her
to be kind enough to come to me. I'm in great pain, and she understand
wounds better than anyone else in the house."
With much surprise in his face, the man departed and a few moments after
the door noiselessly opened and Miss Muir came in. It had been a very
warm day, and for the first time she had left off her plain black dress.
All in white, with no ornament but her fair hair, and a fragrant posy of
violets in her belt, she looked a different woman from the meek, nunlike
creature one usually saw about the house. Her face was as altered as her
dress, for now a soft color glowed in her cheeks, her eyes smiled shyly,
and her lips no longer wore the firm look of one who forcibly repressed
every emotion. A fresh, gentle, and charming woman she seemed, and
Coventry found the dull room suddenly brightened by her presence. Going
straight to him, she said simply, and with a happy, helpful look very
comforting to see, "I'm glad you sent for me. What can I do for you?"
He told her, and before the complaint was ended, she began loosening the
bandages with the decision of one who understood what was to be done and
had faith in herself.
"Ah, that's relief, that's comfort!" ejaculated Coventry, as the last
tight fold fell away. "Ned was afraid I should bleed to death if he
touched me. What will the doctor say to us?"
"I neither know nor care. I shall say to him that he is a bad surgeon to
bind it so closely, and not leave orders to have it untied if necessary.
Now I shall make it easy and put you to sleep, for that is what you
need. Shall I? May I?"
"I wish you would, if you can."
And while she deftly rearranged the bandages, the young man watched her
curiously. Presently he asked, "How came you to know so much about
these things?"
"In the hospital where I was ill, I saw much that interested me, and
when I got better, I used to sing to the patients sometimes."
"Do you mean to sing to me?" he asked, in the submissive tone men
unconsciously adopt when ill and in a woman's care.
"If you like it better than reading aloud in a dreamy tone," she
answered, as she tied the last knot.
"I do, much better," he said decidedly.
"You are feverish. I shall wet your forehead, and then you will be quite
comfortable." She moved about the room in the quiet way which made it a
pleasure to watch her, and, having mingled a little cologne with water,
bathed his face as unconcernedly as if he had been a child. Her
proceedings not only comforted but amused Coventry, who mentally
contrasted her with the stout, beer-drinking matron who had ruled over
him in his last illness.