“Yes, ma’m, sitting in his chair.”
“Ah, he’s all right enough, I dare say. Don’t give way to groundless fears—let us hope you are mistaken.”
Mrs. Bourne put her feet into her slippers, and, accompanied by her faithful handmaiden, she went downstairs.
She entered the surgery, and glanced at her husband. Then a bolt of ice seemed to shoot through her heart.
“Where is Peter?” she inquired.
“In bed, I suppose.”
“Go and rouse him at once. Tell him to put on his things and go off at once for Doctor Garnet. Quick! not a moment is to be lost.”
“What is the matter with the doctor?” inquired Amy, in evident trepidation.
“Matter, girl, something very serious. It appears to me that he is dead.”
At these words, the girl uttered a sort of shriek, and flew upstairs for the boy Peter.