"I am strong enough not to be treated as a child," he rejoined fretfully, turning on her a sallow face, with a bright spot in each cheek. "Is the funeral over?"
"Some days ago," she murmured, and there was a thankful feeling in her heart that it was so.
Before he had time to speak again there was a tap at the door, and a maidservant entered.
"Mr. Musard would like to speak to you for a moment, ma'am," she said to Miss Heredith.
Miss Heredith caught eagerly at the respite.
"Tell him I will come at once. Phil," she added, turning to her nephew, "I will send Vincent to you. He can tell you better than I. He has been here all through your illness, and has looked after everything."
She hurried from the room without waiting for his reply. She saw the tall form of Musard standing in the hall, and went rapidly to him.
"Phil has come to his senses, Vincent," she exclaimed, in an agitated voice. "He wants to know everything that has happened since he was taken ill. What shall we do?"
"He must be told, of course," replied Musard, with masculine decision. "It is better that he should know than be kept in suspense. How is he?"
"He seems quite normal and rational. Will you see him and tell him?"