Ellen had his comfort and the household to look after, and besides was not good at initiating conversation and carrying it on alone; Arthur's tongue was paralyzed in his father's presence by his being unable for an instant to forget there what had occurred between them.

So Del had borne practically the whole burden of filling the dreary, dragging hours for him--who could not speak, could not even show whether he understood or not.

He had never been easy to talk to; now, when she could not tell but that what she said jarred upon a sick and inflamed soul, aggravating his torture by reminding him of things he longed to know yet could not inquire about, tantalizing him with suggestions--She dared not let her thoughts go far in that direction; it would soon have been impossible to send him any message beyond despairing looks.
Sometimes she kissed him.

She knew he was separated from her as by a heavy, grated prison door, and was unable to feel the electric thrill of touch; yet she thought he must get some joy out of the sight of the dumb show of caress.

Again, she would give up trying to look cheerful, and would weep--and let him see her weep, having an instinct that he understood what a relief tears were to her, and that she let him see them to make him feel her loving sympathy.