Mr. Trevelyan did not speak till divested of his damp cloak, and placed in his big chair near the blazing fire.
"This is nice," he tried to say, and the words were almost too hoarse to be intelligible. "Fog—got into my throat," he added with a smile.
"Father, were you in time?" asked Jean, as Jem went off for the remedy he advised.
"Nearly an hour. He was past saying much—great pain—but he listened—and I think he understood. I am glad you were not there. The suffering was terrible."
"And—then—?" in a low voice.
The answer came almost like an echo of what Jem had said—
"My dear, we can only leave him now—in just and merciful Hands . . . ONE who knows all about him—better than you or I! . . . But I would not for worlds not have gone."
Jean laid a hand on his, and it received warm pressure. Whatever the consequences might be, she felt at the moment that she had acted rightly.
[CHAPTER X.]
CONFIDENTIAL WITH THE DOCTOR.