CHAPTER XLVII.
Cynthia came softly into the room. She looked timidly towards Hubert's chair, then rushed forward and rang the bell violently. She had had some fear of the result of Enid's visit, and her fear was certainly justified.
Hubert had fainted away when his visitor had left the room.
It was not until some time afterwards that Cynthia allowed him to talk again. She had medicaments of various kinds to apply, and insisted upon his being perfectly quiet. She had wanted him to go to bed again; but he had resisted this proposition; and, in consequence, he was still in the sitting-room, though lying upon the sofa, at the hour of half-past eight that evening, when the light was fading, and Cynthia was at his side.
"You feel better now, do you not?" she said to him.
"Yes, thank you." The tone was curiously dispirited.
"I must call Jenkins, and you must go to bed."
He caught her hand.
"Not yet, Cynthia—I want to say something."
"To-morrow," she suggested.