The outburst was not what she had expected, but she knew the unburdening would help in the end.

She slid one plump hand under the tired head, and with the other stroked back the mass of hair from the damp forehead--very gently, as she might have calmed some fevered patient.
"May I finish what Stephen tried to tell you, my lady ?" she crooned, still stroking back the hair.

"And may I first tell you that Mr.Felix never went to Africa ?" "Oh, but he did!" she cried out again.

"I know the men he went with.
He was disgusted with the whole business--so he told one of his friends--and never wanted to see me or England again." "You are sure ?" "Yes, I heard about it in Ostend when--" She did not finish the sentence.
The nurse's free hand now closed on Lady Barbara's thin fingers, with a quiet, compelling softness, as if preparing her for a shock.
"Mr.Felix--came here--to New York--my lady--and is here now--or was some weeks ago--doing nothing but walk the streets." The words had come one by one, Martha's clasp tightening as she spoke.
The wasted figure lifted itself from the pillow and sat bolt upright.
"MARTHA! What do you mean!" "Yes, right here in New York, my lady." "It isn't so!" Her hands were now clutching Martha's shoulders.

"Tell me it isn't so! It can't be so!" "It's the blessed God's truth, every word of it! He and Stephen have been looking for you day and night." "Looking for me?
Me! Oh, the shame of it, the shame!" Then with sudden fright: "But he must not find me! He shall not find me! You won't let him find me, will you, Martha ?" Her arms were now tight about the old woman's neck, her agonized face turning wildly toward the door, as if she thought that Felix were already there.