She raised her great eyes to his in the mellow firelight, and then, as
if puzzled by his expression, calmly studied his face.

"You are not going back to that room over the stable, are you?" she
questioned.

"Yes, to-morrow night."

"Don't do it--it is not comfortable; it is awfully roomy and bare and
cold."

"Oh, I am used to that. Many a time I've slept out in the open air on
a frosty night, with nothing round me but a blanket."

"You could occupy this room whenever it suited you; it is seldom used.
I heard mother say yesterday that she wished you would."

"I'd better stay there," he answered, moved again by her irresistible
solicitude, and that other thing in her tone to which he had laid claim
and hugged to his bruised heart. He felt an almost uncontrollable
desire to raise her in his arms, to unbosom his anguish to her, and
propose that they both fight their battles of forgetfulness side by
side, but he shrank from it. The thought of Wambush was again upon him
like some rasping soul-irritant.

"No, no; I'm going back to the stable," he said, fiercely. "I will not
stay here any longer--not a day longer!"

He saw her start, and then she put down the blanket and stood up. "I