She did not complete the sentence, but examined the features of the doctor more minutely. She placed her hand on his shoulder, shook him, and called him again by his name.
Then she shuddered and crept out of the room like one bewitched. She hastened upstairs and aroused her mistress, who was sleeping soundly.
“For Heaven’s sake do tell me what’s the matter, Amy? You look like a person who has just seen a ghost.”
“Oh, ma’am, if you please I don’t know what to make of master, he looks so strange. I am afraid something’s happened to him—he appears to be in a fit.”
“Where is he—in his bedroom?”
“No, in the surgery.”
“In the surgery at this hour! It is just upon two o’clock,” said Mrs. Bourne, as she glanced at the timepiece on the shelf.
“He hasn’t been to bed, that’s quite certain, and I told Thomas, Mr. Curtis’s footman, that he would be with her in less than a quarter of an hour. Whatever are we to do?”
“I’ll get up at once,” cried Mrs. Bourne, springing out of bed and arraying herself in her capacious dressing gown.
“In the surgery—eh?”