And I could not bear it that you should be thinking badly of
him, and so I had to speak because thoughts can help or injure
people--and now he wants all the gentle currents we can send him to take
him through this time."
The Professor coughed violently; his spectacles had grown dim.
Then Halcyone rubbed her soft cheek against his old withered hand.
"You knew it, of course, Master," she said very softly. "I loved him
always and I love him still--and, if I have forgiven any hurt which he
brought me, surely it need not stand against him with you. To-night--oh,
he is suffering so! I cannot bear that there should be one shadow going
to him that I can take away. Cheiron, promise me you won't think hardly
ever any more--promise me, Cheiron, dear!"
The Professor's voice was almost the growl of a bear--but Halcyone knew
he meant to acquiesce.
"Cheiron," she whispered, while she caressed his stiff fingers, "the
winter of our souls is almost past. I feel and know the spring is near
at hand."
"I hope to God it is," Mr. Carlyon said, very low.
Next day they moved on into Italy, crossing the frontier and stopping
the night at Turin where they proposed to hire a motor.
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