"Went away? Why?" asked Monsieur George.
"Because, I am thankful to say, your life is no longer in danger.
And I have told you that she is gone because, strange as it may
seem, I believe you can stand this news better now than later when
you get stronger."
It must be believed that Mills was right. Monsieur George fell
asleep before he could feel any pang at that intelligence. A sort
of confused surprise was in his mind but nothing else, and then his
eyes closed. The awakening was another matter. But that, too,
Mills had foreseen. For days he attended the bedside patiently
letting the man in the bed talk to him of Dona Rita but saying
little himself; till one day he was asked pointedly whether she had
ever talked to him openly. And then he said that she had, on more
than one occasion. "She told me amongst other things," Mills said,
"if this is any satisfaction to you to know, that till she met you
she knew nothing of love. That you were to her in more senses than
one a complete revelation."
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