Nell nodded. She quite understood his dislike of the part of interesting
invalid.
"And there's really nothing the matter with me, don't you know," he said
earnestly; "nothing but this arm, which doesn't exactly lame me. Won't
you sit down?"
Nell hesitated a moment, then took a chair at the other side of the
window.
"You've a splendid view here," he remarked, staring steadily out of the
window, for he felt rather than saw that the girl was a little shy--not
shy, but, rather, that she scarcely knew what to say.
"Oh, yes," she assented, in a voice in which there was certainly no
shyness. "There is a good view from all the windows; we are so high.
Won't you have your beef tea?"
"Certainly. I'd forgotten it. Don't get up. I'll----"
But Nell had got up before he could rise. As she brought the tray to him
he glanced up at her. He had been staring at the bedroom wall paper for
some days, and perhaps the contrast offered by Nell's fresh, young
loveliness made it seem all the fresher and more striking. There was
something in the curve of the lips, in the expression of the gray eyes,
a "sweet sadness," as the poet puts it, which impressed him.
"It's very good to be down again," he said. She had not gone back to her
chair, but leaned in the angle of the bay window, and looked down at the
village below. "I seem to have been in bed for ages."
She nodded.
"I know. I remember feeling like that when I got up after the measles,
years ago."
"Not many years ago," he suggested, with a faint smile.
"It seems a long time ago to me," said Nell. "I remember that for weeks
and months after I got well I hated the sight and smell of beef tea and
arrowroot. And Doctor Spence--your doctor, you know--gave me a glass of
ale one day, and stood over me while I drank it. He can be very firm
when he likes, not to say obstinate."
Mr. Vernon listened to the musical voice, and looked at the slim,
girlish figure and spirituelle face absently; and when there fell a
silence he showed no disposition to break it. It was difficult to find
anything to talk about with so young and inexperienced a girl, and it
was almost with an air of relief that he turned as Mrs. Lorton entered.
"And how do you feel now?" she asked, with bated breath. "Weak and
faint, I'm afraid. I know how exhausting one feels the first time of
getting down. Eleanor, I do hope you have not been tiring Mr. Vernon by
talking too much."