She could not understand why Eleanor looked, at her with this horror and wildness,--how it was that she came to be up, by this open window, in this state of illness and collapse.

But the discovery only served an antecedent process--a struggle from darkness to light--which had brought her to Eleanor's room.
She bent forward and said some words in Eleanor's ear.
Gradually Eleanor understood and responded.

She raised herself piteously in her chair.

The two women sat together, hand locked in hand, their faces near to each other, the murmur of their voices flowing on brokenly, for nearly an hour.
Once Lucy rose to get a guide book that lay on Eleanor's table.

And on another occasion, she opened a drawer by Eleanor's direction, took out a leather pocket-book and counted some Italian notes that it contained.
Finally she insisted on Eleanor's going to bed, and on helping her to undress.
Eleanor had just sunk into her pillows, when a noise from the library startled them.