The first person he recognized was Lucilla.

She was engaged at the moment in brushing his beautiful chestnut hair.

To her unutterable joy, he patted her hand, and murmured her name.
She bent over him; and, under cover of the hair-brush, whispered something in his ear which made the young fellow's pale face flush, and his dull eyes brighten with pleasure.

A day or two afterwards, she owned to me that she had said, "Get well, for my sake." She was not in the least ashamed of having spoken to that plain purpose.

On the contrary, she triumphed in it.