But when she did recover, what would she do?
Nothing rash, he prayed.

And what could be the end of it all?
Who might say?
How fortunate that the sister had been so sound asleep.

Somehow he did not trust Elizabeth--he feared her.
Well might Geoffrey fear her! Elizabeth's sleep was that of a weasel.
She too was laughing at this very moment, laughing, not loud but long--the laugh of one who wins.
She had seen him enter, his burden in his arms; saw him come with it to her own bedside, and had breathed heavily to warn him of his mistake.
She had watched him put Beatrice on her bed, and heard him sigh and turn away; nothing had escaped her.

As soon as he was gone, she had risen and crept up to Beatrice, and finding that she was only in a faint had left her to recover, knowing her to be in no danger.

Elizabeth was not a nervous person.