“If she is not dead, tell Robert to carry her into my room. Oh, Dr. Grey, you will not let her die!”
As she looked up imploringly into his calm, noble face, she met his earnest gaze, brimming with compassion and sympathy, and her lips and chin quivered.
“Trust your God, and have faith in me.”
He went out to assist in removing his patient, and when they had carried the mattress and its occupant into the room opposite the parlor and laid it on the carpet near the window, he had the satisfaction of observing a favorable change in Elsie’s condition. While he stood by a table preparing some medicine, Robert stole up, and asked:
“Do you notice any improvement? She groaned twice on the road, and once I am sure she opened her eyes.”
“Yes; I think that very soon she will be able to speak, for her pulse is gaining strength every hour.”
“How did my mistress take it?”
“She was much shocked and grieved. Maclean, where are her friends and relatives?”
There was no reply, and, glancing over his shoulder to repeat the inquiry, Dr. Grey saw Mrs. Gerome leaning against the door.
“Robert, have you killed her?”