He had not heard what she had said
then, and they had not been left alone together since his hurt until
this morning. There had been many constantly coming and going about the
sick bed during the first days, and to him those days were mere blanks
of suffering and blurs of pain. It was only to-day that he had begun to
regain in a measure the power of his mind and will. If he could but have
had for one instant the old power of his body! He did not know whether
this beautiful, tender young creature beside him was still under promise
to marry another man. There had been no opportunity for any confidential
talk. The name of William Pressley had never been mentioned between
them. The thought of him was like a touch of fire to Paul Colbert, so
burning was the contempt which he felt for this conceited dullard whose
blundering had nearly been his own death. But he could not say anything
of this to her--the fact that she had once been engaged to be married to
the man held him silent. It might be that she was still bound, and yet
there was something in her soft eyes that led him to hope that she was
free--something, at least, which seemed to give him leave to wrest
freedom for her from the strongest that might try to hold her against
her sweet will.
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