One moment only did she debate with herself. The nurse just then had gone to a side table to fetch some brandy. The patient, so Louisa heard her tell the doctor, had not actually fainted; he was merely in a state of exhaustion.
Swift and furtive, like some small animal in danger of its life, Louisa slipped in between the screen and the bed, and before the doctor or nurse could prevent her, she had bent right over the sick man and whispered close to his ear:
"Lord Radclyffe, unless you make an effort now, to-morrow Luke will be standing in the dock—branded as a felon. Make an effort for Luke's sake!"
And the spirit which had gone wandering in the land of shadows came back to earth at sound of that one name.
"Luke!" he whispered, "Luke, my boy. I am strong. I can help you."
"Miss Harris——" interposed the doctor sternly.
But the sick man's words had put new strength into her. She was ready to fight the doctor now. The conventional woman of the world was transformed into just a mere woman fighting for the thing she loved—child, lover, or husband, it is all the same when that womanly instinct of combat is aroused.
Doctor Newington would have had to take Louisa Harris by the shoulders now if he meant to eject her: for until the patient spoke, here she meant to remain.
"Doctor," she quietly, "you have another duty to perform than that of watching over your patient. An innocent man is accused of a terrible crime. Lord Radclyffe, though very weak, is fully conscious. If he can save his nephew by a word that word must be spoken to-night."
"Send for Tom Ryder," murmured the sick man, "he'll understand."