A Lame Dog's Diary Part 24

"You know you mean all the time to let me see it," said Mrs. Fielden.

"I know I do not mean to let you see it for even a minute of time," I replied.

One of Mrs. Fielden's special odd little silences fell between us.

"No," I said to myself. "I will _not_ say I am sorry. I will _not_ say I have been a brute, I will _not_ feel a desire to comfort her, even if her eyes have the wistful look in them."

Mrs. Fielden sat still and looked into the fire.

What unexpected thing will she do next, I wonder? Will she suddenly burst out laughing, or will she turn and take every bit of manhood out of me by smiling? Or shall I find, when I turn and look at her face, simply that she has gone to sleep?

Good heavens! What if she should be crying?

In an agony of compunction I turned and looked at her; and Mrs. Fielden not only smiled, but held out her hand for the book.... I rummaged underneath the sofa cus.h.i.+ons, and pa.s.sed it over to her. She bent forward till the firelight from the blazing logs fell full on the open page, and she read every one of those corrected lines. She saw where I had once put "affected" I had now put "beautiful," and for "frivolous"

I put a "lovely gaiety," and she read till she came to the last correction of all. I had run a line through the words "Mrs. Fielden came to sit with me," and had written over it, "My darling came to see me----"

Then Mrs. Fielden closed the book, and left her chair where she had been sitting. She crossed the hearthrug quite slowly till she reached my sofa. And then she kneeled down and took both my hands in her dear strong ones, and looked at me with misty blue eyes, like wet forget-me-nots. "But, Hugo dear," she said, "why did you not tell me long ago?"

THE END.