“Promise, and keep the promise for a few weeks, a few days; then I’ll find strength to help you once more. But now it’s your turn to help me. To-morrow begins a new week; the rich world allows us to rest to-morrow, to be with each other. Shall we make it a quiet, restful, hopeful day? When they go out in the morning, you shall read to father and me—read as you know how to, so much better than I can. What? Was that really a smile?”
“Let me go, Sidney. Oh, I’m tired, I’m tired!”
“And the promise?”
“I’ll do my best. It won’t last long, but I’ll try.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“No,” she replied, despondently. “It’s I that ought to thank you. But I never shall,—never. I only understand you now and then—just for an hour—and all the selfishness comes back again. It’ll be the same till I’m dead.”
He put out the lamp and followed her upstairs. His limbs ached; he could scarcely drag one leg after the other. Never mind; the battle was gained once more.
