Kirkwood, that perhaps you
feared to come lest, whilst I was not very well, it might have been
an inconvenience to us. Please don't think that. I shall never--
see either friends or strangers unless it is absolutely needful.'
There was silence.
'You do feel much better, I hope?' fell from Sidney's lips.
'Much stronger. It's only my mind; everything is so dark to me. You
know how little patience I always had. It was enough if any one
said, 'You _must_ do this,' or 'You _must_ put up with that'--at
once I resisted. It was my nature; I couldn't bear the feeling of
control. That's what I've had to struggle with since I recovered
from my delirium at the hospital, and hadn't even the hope of dying.
Can you put yourself in my place, and imagine what I have suffered?'
Sidney was silent. His own life had not been without its passionate
miseries, but the modulations of this voice which had no light of
countenance to aid it raised him above the plane of common
experience and made actual to him the feelings he knew only in
romantic story. He could not stir, lest the slightest sound should
jar on her speaking. His breath rose visibly upon the chill air, but
the discomfort of the room was as indifferent to him as to his
companion.
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