came back, pale and agitated. Norman felt his heart sink when he saw
him; a groan broke from him as the Doctor spoke:

'She is much worse! I am in great fear that she may pass away before
the morning!' The Squire's strong voice was clouded, with a hoarse
veil as he asked:

'May I see her?'

'Not yet; at present she is sleeping. She may wake strengthened; in
which case you may see her. But if not--'

'If not?'--the voice was not like his own.

'Then I shall send for you at once!' The Doctor returned to his
vigil. The Squire, left alone, sank on his knees, his face in his
hands; his great shoulders shook with the intensity of his grief.

An hour or more passed before he heard hurried steps. He sprang to
the door:

'Well?'

'You had better come now.'

'Is she better?'

'Alas! no. I fear her minutes are numbered. School yourself, my
dear old friend! God will help you in this bitter hour. All you can
do now is to make her last moments happy.'