"So do I," agreed Nancy, with pitiless fervour, and something wild, and hostile, looked out of her eyes as she added, "and only for Daddy, it would have been you."
"That is true; he gave his life for mine."
"And," said the girl, rising as she spoke, "I am to give mine to you; well, since he wishes it, you may take it!"
Without another word or glance, she turned her back upon Mayne, and departed to her post in the sick-room.
During all this time, Mrs. Hicks, as her husband had boasted, came well to the fore. Apparently accustomed to sickness, and death, she was surprisingly energetic and practical, altogether a saner, more subdued, and silent, Mrs. Hicks.
The doctor's verdict had now gone forth, and the whole establishment was figuratively clothed in sackcloth and ashes. Neighbours from far and near crowded the verandah; melancholy and dejected, these awaited bulletins, and in some cases, farewell interview with their dying friend.
Nancy never appeared among the callers,—everything remained in the hands of Dr. and Mrs. Hicks. When a visitor entered the sick-room, she noiselessly slipped away, but at other times, Travers' dog, and Travers' daughter, were his chief companions.
The grim drawing-room had been completely altered to suit its present use. Most of the hateful black furniture was piled up behind the screen! A small camp bed, a long arm-chair, and a round table occupied the middle of the apartment. On the latter, a few books, photographs, and odds and ends—Travers' poor treasures—had been hastily collected.
The sick man was not in bed, but reclined in the long chair wrapped in his dressing-gown,—with death in his face, a stout heart in his breast,—the only cheerful inmate in Fairplains. His left arm and hand were terribly swollen. With his right he had written a few lines to his sister, and to Fletcher.—Short notes enclosed and addressed by Nancy.—Also he had made his will, and given her many directions, and much advice; to all of which the girl had listened with immovable composure—knowing that to break down would be terribly distressing to her father—who, with extraordinary fortitude, now calmly awaited the end.