At this moment she could almost have
taken that common little girl into her arms and kissed her. So would
all disquiet end! Some harmonious messenger had fluttered to her for a
second--the gold-winged bird of peace. In this sensuous exaltation her
nerves vibrated like the strings of a violin.
When Mr. Stone woke it was past three o'clock and Bianca at once handed
him another cup of strong beef-tea.
He swallowed it, and said: "What is this?"
"Beef-tea."
Mr. Stone looked at the empty cup.
"I must not drink it. The cow and the sheep are on the same plane as
man."
"But how do you feel, dear?"
"I feel," said Mr. Stone, "able to dictate what I have already
written--not more. Has she come?"
"Not yet; but I will go and find her if you like."
Mr. Stone looked at his daughter wistfully.
"That will be taking up your time," he said.
Bianca answered: "My time is of no consequence."
Mr. Stone stretched his hands out to the fire.
"I will not consent," he said, evidently to himself, "to be a drag on
anyone. If that has come, then I must go!"
Bianca, placing herself beside him on her knees, pressed her hot cheek
against his temple.
"But it has not come, Dad."
"I hope not," said Mr. Stone. "I wish to end my book first."
The sudden grim coherence of his last two sayings terrified Bianca more
than all his feverish, utterances.
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