'I have saved her!' I cried over and over again, as I sank back on my
pillow. Then the delirium of fever came upon me, and I lay tossing as
upon a sea of fire.
XII
Weak in body and in mind as an infant, I woke again to consciousness.
Through the open window the sunlight, with that tender golden-yellow
tone which comes with morning in England, was pouring between the
curtains, and illuminating the white counterpane. Then a soft breeze
came and slightly moved the curtains, and sent the light and shadows
about the bed and the opposite wall--a breeze laden with the scent I
always associated with Wynne's cottage, the scent of geraniums. I
raised myself on my elbows, and gazed over the geraniums on the
window-sill at the blue sky, which was as free of clouds as though it
were an Italian one, save that a little feathery cloud of a palish
gold was slowly moving towards the west.
'It is shaped like a hand,' I said dreamily, and then came the
picture of Winifred in the churchyard singing, and pointing to just
such a golden cloud, and then came the picture of Tom Wynne reeling
towards us from the church porch, and then came everything in
connection with him and with her; everything down to the very
last words which I had spoken about her to my mother before
unconsciousness had come upon me.
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