"Oh, well, you know what I mean, anyhow. I've always called it a crisis, all my life, but it shows how ignorant one is. At any rate, in a few days we may consider him out of danger, mayn't we?"
Sartorius shook his head with slight disparagement.
"I certainly trust so, Miss Clifford, but, frankly, no one can be sure.
If everything continues to go smoothly——"
"But why shouldn't it, doctor?" Lady Clifford asked quickly.
He shrugged his heavy shoulders in a weary fashion.
"My dear lady, I only want to warn you against over-optimism. One mustn't allow oneself to forget Sir Charles's age and the fact that he has been in bad health for some time. Weakened as he is now, any shock, however slight might do irreparable harm. However, there is no reason for alarm."
Miss Clifford sighed deeply, shuffling the cards over and over.
"I was thinking we were safe out of the woods," she said sadly. "Now you've depressed me again."
"There is no need," the doctor assured her, patting her shoulder with the deliberate kindliness he reserved for her. "Barring accidents, we may hope for good things."
When he uttered the word "accidents" it seemed to Esther that his eyes rested coldly upon her, quite as though she herself might through some piece of carelessness endanger Sir Charles's chance of recovery. Why on earth did he take that suspicious attitude? It had struck her often the past few days that he was over-critical in regard to her, always ready to find fault. Yet she knew that Sir Charles liked her and that as far as she could tell, she had never failed in her duty. She was glad when the doctor withdrew from the room; she felt she could breathe again.