She listened, and let him have his way.  Whatever might come after, there seemed nothing else to do now.  The Presence in the room above seemed to have changed everything.  One could not speak or act as might have been possible an hour ago.  Only the great realities counted now.  Here were two of them confronting her at once—­Death and Love.  How could she be less primitively honest in the face of one than of the other?

He put her in the winged chair, drew the white shawl closely about her shoulders, dropped upon one knee by her side, and, taking possession once more of her hand, spoke low and decidedly: 

“I will go over to the Macauleys and send Mrs. Macauley to you.  Then Mr. Macauley and I will take everything in charge—­with your permission?”

He waited for her assent.  She gave it with closed eyes, her head tilted back against the wing of the chair, her lips pressed tight together that they might not tremble.

“You will want to take her to Washington, or on to South Carolina?”

“South Carolina—­where she was born.”

“We shall not be able to start till the storm is over.  There is no train or trolley service out from the city to-night, and there will not be until the wind and drifting stops.  My train was ten hours late.  I should have been here this morning.  Meanwhile, I will stay just where you want me.  You and Mrs. Macauley can settle that.  I wish for your sake Mrs. Burns were here—­and Red.”

“They are not here?  Then—­how did you come to—­”

“Come home before them?  I couldn’t stay away contentedly as long as they.  I had had an all-summer’s vacation, and wanted to be at work.  But I came from the ship straight up here, to satisfy myself that all was well with you.  I found you—­needing me.  Can I help being thankful that I came?”

“Dr. Leaver—?”

“Yes?”

Charlotte sat up suddenly, opening her eyes, pressing her free hand again over her heart with that unconscious gesture as old as suffering.

“If I had not insisted on keeping Granny here she would not have—­would not have—­”

She sank back, covering her face.

“What had her being here to do with it?  You took every care of her.  She was old—­ripe—­ready to go.  The wonder is that she has lived so long, with such a frail hold on life.”

“But—­she had an exposure.  This dreadful weather—­night before last—­her window blew in—­she was chilled—­”

Her voice broke.  With difficulty she told him the story of the experience.  He lifted her hand to his lips and held it there.  After a minute he spoke very gently: