"Think what she's been through," Hugh murmured, "that little delicate
thing, wandering for two days, out in this cold--scared by the woods,
blinded by the pain, starving. When I found her, you'd have thought
she'd be afraid of a wild man like me, but she just lifted up her
arms like a baby and dropped her head on my shoulder. She--she patted
my cheek--"

Bella brought the soup, and Hugh, raising the small black head on
the crook of his arm, forced a spoonful between the clenched teeth.
The girl swallowed and began again to whimper: "Oh, my eyes! My eyes!
They hurt me so!" She turned her face against Hugh's chest and clung
to him.

"They'll be better soon," he soothed her; then fiercely to Bella:
"Can't we do something? Don't you know what to do?"

Again Bella went to the kitchen, moving like an automaton. Hugh coaxed
and murmured, feeding the girl in spite of her pain. He managed to
force a little of the soup down her throat, and a faint stain of color
came back to her lips and cheeks. Bella presently reappeared with
salve and lotion, and Hugh helped her hold the swollen lids apart,
his big hands very skillful, while she gently washed out the eyes.
Then they put the salve on her sun-scorched face. She sighed as though
in some relief, and again snuggled against Hugh.

"Don't go away, please," she pleaded in a sweet trickle of voice.
"I'm scared to feel you gone. You're so warm. You're so strong. Will
you talk to me again, please? Your voice is so comforting, so
beau-ti-ful."