"Fred will remain."
He studied Jack with almost angry intentness. Had he been so mistaken in the man? Could he so calmly leave the woman he loved to bear her terrible trial alone, or did he think his mother's sympathy sufficient for her? And, although there were many admirable qualities in Fred Lawrence, the two had never fraternized with the deep cordiality that must underlie all friendships. They had not the magnetic attraction for each other that Darcy held for both.
"What do you think of Miss Barry?" the latter asked hesitatingly.
"It is the beginning of the end;" and Maverick sighed, as he thought of the impotence of human skill past a certain point. "Miss Barry consulted me a year ago, and was not in ignorance; but I hoped, nay, felt assured, with care and quiet her life might be prolonged. She may linger some months, and it may all be ended in a week. Good heavens! what a shock for Miss Sylvie!"
He took two or three turns across the floor.
"Go," he said abruptly, with an imperious wave of the hand. Then, a little scornfully, "You will both be better in bed. Lawrence looks as if I might have him for a patient to-morrow; but, Jack, are you made out of adamant?"
The thrust hurt him, but Maverick was not in a pitying mood. Indeed, just at this moment his temper was savage. He had witnessed the pain and the suffering of the woman he had begun to love, until it had been hard to refrain from taking her in his strong arms, and sheltering her from the keenest pangs.
The household remained the next morning as he had ordered. He was rather sulky all the way up in the train with Jack; but a talk with brisk, pungent Miss Morgan quite restored him.
"Open the houses, and build fires immediately," he commanded. "Burn up and blow out the confined air, that there shall be no pestilential foes to greet them on their own hearths."
He went down again that evening. If he had been annoyed before, he was puzzled now. There had been no word spoken between Fred and Sylvie; but the now, to her, sweet knowledge had come in a gesture, a glance, that could no more be described than the fine pulse of love can be dissected. She seemed to have waited breathless for just this strength and support. A hasty lover might have placed himself in the foreground. It was as if he said, "Here is my love, take it, use it, rely upon it; you cannot wear it out, you cannot wound or hurt it by any thing that may look like coldness; it is a blessed atmosphere to surround you until you stretch out your hand, and draw me into your very soul. I have been trained in patience and humility; only let me prove myself worthy in your eyes."