Marion's interest in her occupation was sincere, but it did not prevent her mentally remarking on my silence. I saw her brows contract at length, and soon afterwards she spoke, but without looking up.
"You are Brown, I suppose?"
"Yes—at—at least," I stammered, "that is how Sir William Dagmar calls me."
"Indeed! What then is your name?"
"Agar Hume, madam."
She gave me a glance of nascent curiosity, and asked me to pour some boiling water in a bowl. I complied, and she prepared to leave the room. Her poultice was made.
"Pardon me," I said. "How is Sir William this morning?"
"Still very low, although sensible. His crisis is past, however, and Sir Charles Venner feels confident he will recover."
"Thank you!" I bowed gravely. "Permit me, madam, to relieve you of that burden."
"Please do not trouble."