"I hope you will believe," he said eagerly, "that I had really no idea
of how very ill your cousin was. She seemed so well when I saw her that
it was all unreal to me. I wish I could tell you how sorry I have been
for you. I have thought of you."
She raised her eyes to his, and they exchanged a look in which there
was more than sympathy. Maurice felt her glance so deeply that for the
moment he forgot all else. Obstacles no longer existed. He was looking
into the eyes of the woman he loved, and thrilling as if her heart was
questioning his. It seemed to him that her very self was demanding how
deep and how true had been his thought of her in her time of sorrow. He
bent forward, sounding her gaze with his, trying to convey all the
unspoken words which jostled in his brain. Her eyes fell before his
burning look, and her head drooped. The room was darkening with the
coming dusk, and they sat at some distance from the others. He laid his
hand on hers.
"Berenice!" he whispered.
She rose as if she had not noted.
"Don't you think it is time for lights, grandmother?" she said in a
voice so unemotional that it sent a chill to his heart.
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