He turned on her a
pair of wonderful dark eyes, which were animal-like in their simple,
direct appeal, and their moist softness. He begged her to lead him aside
into a path by which few would pass: he disliked being stared at.
Thinking only of him as a creature in sickness and distress, she obeyed
without a thought for herself. She helped him to sit down upon a bench,
and sat down by him and felt his pulse. He looked at her with an open,
kindly eye, with a simple-seeming gratitude, which held her strangely
(though she only perceived that clearly on looking back). He said to her
suddenly,--
"There was a deep, mystical truth in the teaching of the Church to its
children--that they should prefer in their moments of human weakness to
pray to the Virgin-mother; for woman is always man's best friend."
She looked in his face, wondering at him, still with her finger on his
pulse, when she felt an unconsciousness come over her, not unlike "the
thick, sweet mystery of chloroform;" and she knew no more till she
opened her eyes in the hospital bed. "Revived by you," she said to
Lefevre.
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