Part 24 (1/2)
XXVII
Wulfrey was up early, after a restless night, anxious to see how his patient fared. It was such a morning as usually followed their storms--clear and bright and sunny, with a pale-blue wind-swept sky, and a crisp breeze that tipped the green of the waves outside with white.
The first time he went softly in she was still sleeping, and with much satisfaction he noted the improvement the food and rest had wrought in her. Her face had filled out, the cheek-bones were less prominent, the dark circles round her eyes were not nearly so p.r.o.nounced as before, though he imagined the long dark lashes and level brows would always lend a sense of depth and witchery to the great dark eyes themselves.
The slight salting and roughening of the skin would speedily cure itself under the application of fresh water. She was almost herself again.
Their fire, on its bed of sand, was never allowed to go out. The supply of wood was unlimited and always, in the depths of the heap of white ashes, was a golden core of heat only waiting to be fed. So he set to and prepared coffee for her, and some flour-and-water biscuits, and when he went in again she was awake. She turned her head and looked at him, and his heart beat quicker than was its wont.
Her eyes, he perceived, were very dark blue, almost black, and looked the darker for the dark fringing lashes. They were very beautiful eyes, he decided, and very eloquent,--there was something of apprehension in them when first they met his, but it vanished when he spoke.
”You are better, I can see. You slept well?”
”I have only just wakened. You are the doctor.”
”Yes, I am the doctor. I have got some coffee for you and some biscuits. I will get them.”
”You are very good,” as he came in with them and she raised herself on to her elbow again. ”Did your friend get me any clothes? I feel quite well, and I would get up.”
”He brought a whole heap of things. They have been spread out all night, but I'm afraid they'll never dry properly till they are washed in fresh water.”
”And have you fresh water?”
”Oh, plenty,--Ash.o.r.e there, in pools. If you can select a few things I will go across and steep them. They will soon dry in the sun.”
”You are very good,” she said again, and sipped the coffee and glanced up at him with a somewhat wry face. ”No, you have no sugar on this strange s.h.i.+p--nor milk. Nor a brush, nor a comb, I'll be bound.
Nothing but----”
”A brush and a comb we can provide at all events, and of exceptional quality. They belonged, I believe, to His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent.”
”Edward of Kent?” she asked quickly. ”Why--how....”
”Some s.h.i.+p, bringing home his belongings from Canada, must have been wrecked here. We have found quite a number of his things.”
”Well, he would not mind my using them,” she said quietly. ”He is of a pleasant temper, quite the nicest of them all”; and as she finished the coffee and biscuits, ”If you could find me ... a brooch--no, you will not have a brooch! ... a large pin or two,--but no, you will not have any pins! ... Let me see, then,--a sharp splinter of wood----”
”I can get you all the splinters you want. Might I ask----”
”To pin some of these blankets about me, do you see,--so that I may get up. And if you would get me that royal brush and comb----”
He trimmed up half a dozen sharp little skewers and left them with her, together with the brush and comb, and plunged overboard for his morning swim.
The mate was sitting by the fire at his breakfast when he went down again.
”Well?--how is my lady this morning?” he asked.
”So well that she is getting up.”
”Them clothes all right?”
”She will pick out what she wants. But they'll never dry with the salt in them. I'll rinse them in one of the pools as soon as she says which.”