'
Reminded all at once that he had no time to lose, Marcus threw open
the shutter, extinguished the lamp, and slipped away, leaving his
patient with eyes turned to the pale glimmer of dawn at the tiny
window. Now only did there stir in Basil clear recollection of the
events which had preceded his coming hither. Marcus's sly word in
regard to the locket had awakened his mind, and in a few moments he
thought connectedly. But without emotion, unless it were a vague,
tender sadness. All seemed to have happened so long ago. It was like
a story he had heard in days gone by. He thought of it until his
brain began to weary, then again came sleep.
A day or two passed. He had begun to eat with keen appetite, and his
strength increased hour by hour. On a Sunday, after the office of
the third hour, Marcus cheerily gave him permission to rise. This
prompted Basil to inquire whether his man, who had come with him,
was still in the monastery. Marcus, with eyes averted, gave a nod.
Might he speak with him, Basil asked. Presently, presently, was the
answer. Marcus himself aided the convalescent to dress; then having
seated him in a great chair of rude wickerwork, used only on
occasions such as this, left him to bask in a beam of sunshine.
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