'Come,' said the doctor; and he returned, leading the way to the chamber of death.
Leaning in his chair, his attitude unchanged, his eyes still closed, rested all that remained of Sir Valary De la Mark, while Marjory, with the hand still clasped in hers, slept that heavy sleep which nature sometimes claims to repair extreme exhaustion.
'This is too much!' said the squire; 'how shall we get her away?'
'Leave me, leave me,' replied the doctor. 'I will do it.'
Willingly Mr. Brimble relinquished to him the task, and the doctor, gently releasing the cold hand from Marjory's grasp, raised her from her father's side.
'My dear child,' he said tenderly, 'you must not remain here now. Your uncle is come, and we need to be alone with—in this room; and you shall lie down, my dear—Mrs. Gillies—rest on me—this way;' and he attempted to lead her from the room, but Marjory was now awake, and resisted the movement at first. 'Need I leave him?' she whispered. 'I have slept, I am quite strong now, and he must be better, for he has slept so long.'
Importunity at last prevailed. She consented to go for a while. 'But let me see him first,' she said; just one look. He was so calm, so peaceful, when he first sank into sleep. How could I sleep when I ought to have been watching him?'
Finding it vain to resist, the doctor yielded, and she advanced.
Not a cry—not a word—but one long settled look of horror and despair. She stood motionless before the body.
* * * * *