Before morning Falconer became delirious. He did not rave nor shout, but
he talked incessantly, with his eyes wide open and fixed vacantly, and
his long hand plucking at the bedclothes. Nell stole in from her room,
though she had promised to rest and leave the night duty to the village
nurse, and, sitting beside him, held his hand.

At the touch of her cool fingers he became quiet for a moment or two,
and something like a smile crossed his pain-lined face; but presently he
began again. Sometimes he was back at the Buildings, and he hummed a bar
or two of music while his fingers played on the counterpane as if it
were a piano. Once or twice he murmured her name in a tone which brought
the color to Nell's face and made her heart ache. But it did not need
the whisper of her name to tell her Falconer's secret. She knew that he
loved her, for he had told her so at the moment when Drake had seen them
walking together in the garden.

And as she sat and held his hand, she tried to force her mind from
dwelling on Drake, and to remember the devotion of the stricken man
beside her.

Though he had confessed his love, he had asked for nothing in return. He
had said that he knew that his passion was hopeless, but that he could
not help loving her, that he must continue to do so while life lasted.