Ivor still lay in the heavy sleep which had fallen upon him, and Dr. Hughes refused to awaken him.
"No, let him sleep while he can, and I will see him later on."
Then Mari took her way down the village road. All the sorrow and pain she had ever suffered seemed now to have reached their climax. She entered the comfortable kitchen, where Madlen sat crying on the settle.
"Oh, Mari fâch! what will we do? how can we live in this cold world without the Mishteer?"
Mari's lips were white with suppressed sorrow. She could not answer, but passed quietly up the stairs.
In the sick-room Hugh still slept on, and Gwladys, white and rigid, sat beside him. There was a silent embrace between the two women, but no sound broke the stillness except the heavy breathing of the motionless figure before them, and so the long hours passed on.
In the afternoon Dr. Hughes once more came in, but only stood looking sorrowfully down at the sleeper.
As the evening shadows drew on, for the November sun was near its setting, and the little room grew darker, Hugh began to move restlessly, while Gwladys and Mari watched anxiously. Suddenly he opened his eyes, and, in the first moment of awakening, made an attempt to change his position slightly; but a look of anguish overspread his face, and a sharp cry escaped his lips, as he fell back once more into motionless silence.
Suddenly he called, "Ivor! Ivor Parry!" and quickly Ivor, who was now waiting below with Madlen, heard his own name, and hastened to the bedside.
Evidently Hugh Morgan's life was fast ebbing away.