And yet she baffled me even when I had come to this conclusion.
During most of his delirium she remained almost impassive, as if she had
schooled herself to be calm and strong in nerve; but one afternoon she
did a thing that upset all my opinions of her for a moment. Looking
straight at her with staring, unconscious eyes, he half rose in his bed,
and said in a low, bitter tone: "I hate you. I once loved you--but I hate
you now!" Then he laughed scornfully, and fell back on the pillow. She
had been sitting very quietly, musing. His action had been unexpected,
and had broken upon a silence. She rose to her feet quickly, gave a sharp
indrawn breath, and pressed her hand against her side, as though a sudden
pain had seized her. The next moment, however, she was composed again,
and said in explanation that she had been half asleep, and he had
startled her. But I had seen her under what seemed to me more trying
conditions, and she had not shown any nervousness such as this.
The passengers, of course, talked. Many "true histories" of Mrs.
Falchion's devotion to the sick man were abroad; but it must be said,
however, that all of them were romantically creditable to her.
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