The King was kept very busy on the beach that afternoon and evening. His schooner had come in, and brought stores of all kinds, some for the Exiles’ Club and some for the King himself. There was a bag of letters, and there was money for Lord Charles Baringstoke. Two messengers had come down from the palace by his direction, but they had brought little news; the case was going on much as had been expected—that was all Dr Pryce would say. At ten o’clock, as no messenger had come for the last four hours, the King mounted his horse and rode up to the palace.
“I’m glad you’ve come, sir,” said Mr Lechworthy. “Indeed, I was on the point of sending for you.”
“Miss Auriol is better?”
“I—I don’t know. At sunset it was terrible—one heard her moaning and screaming. Dr Pryce had told me it would be so, but still it was terrible. For the last two hours he has been in her room and everything has been quite quiet.”
“He dined with you, I suppose.”
“No. He came in for a minute, and took a cup of coffee. That was all. I can’t tell you the things that that man has done to-day. He has done everything—even to the preparing of such food as she has been allowed to take. If she recovers, it is to Dr Pryce, under Providence, that she owes her life.”
“But why does he remain so long? Why does he not come and tell us?”
“I don’t know. I hope, of course, that she is asleep.”
“If she is asleep, then all is well, and he need not remain.”