"How kind of her to come!" said Hubert, looking away from the girl as if Cynthia were on the other side of the room. "But she should not look so angrily at me. I have done what I could, you know. It is all right now, Cynthia, I have done what I could—I have saved him—indeed I have! I'll take the punishment—no way out of it but that! A life sentence—a life sentence for me!"
The words died away upon his lips in a confused babble that they could not understand. He murmured inarticulately for a time, but there came long pauses between the words, his eyelids drooped a little, and he grew perceptibly less flushed. In about half an hour the doctor came into the room. He cast a swift look at Cynthia, and another at his patient; then he nodded sagaciously.
"Better," he said curtly. "I thought so. Some more ice, Jenkins. He has been quieter since you came, I conclude, madam?"
Cynthia bowed her head.
"You are the lady for whom he has been asking so often? I know your face—Miss Cynthia West, I believe? Can you stay?"
"Yes," said Cynthia, without hesitation.
"If you keep him as quiet as that, you will save his life," said the doctor; and then he beckoned Jenkins out of the sick-room, and gave him various stringent orders and recommendations—to all which Jenkins lent an attentive if a somewhat puzzled ear.
The doctor looked in again before he went away. Mr. Lepel was lying back on his pillows, perfectly motionless and silent; Miss West, kneeling beside the bed, still kept one hand on his, while with the other she put cooling applications to his head or merely laid her hand upon his forehead. As long as she was touching him the patient seemed perfectly content. And again the doctor nodded—and this time he also smiled.
So passed the hours of that long summer day.