She re-entered the hut, flung off her bonnet and cloak, and approached the sufferer.

He had begun anew those terrible mutterings, and his hands were cold.

As soon as she saw him there returned to her that agony of mind which the stimulus of her journey had thrown off for a time.
Could he really be dying?
She bathed him, kissed him, forgot all things but the fact that lying there before her was he who had loved her more than the mere lover would have loved; had martyred himself for her comfort, cared more for her self-respect than she had thought of caring.

This mood continued till she heard quick, smart footsteps without; she knew whose footsteps they were.
Grace sat on the inside of the bed against the wall, holding Giles's hand, so that when her husband entered the patient lay between herself and him.

He stood transfixed at first, noticing Grace only.