As we said before, only those who have watched by the sick-bed of one they love better than themselves can picture the next few days.
Doctor May had made the nurse understand that “Miss Mordaunt” had a right to be with Colonel Dacre, and the two watched every night together, expecting every hour to be the last. Miss Mordaunt was worn to a shadow with these anxious nights, for she did not even rest in the daytime, like her companion. How could she sleep through these precious minutes, which might be the only comfort in the future—a memory that would be more to her than any living love?
For she had sworn to be Colonel Dacre’s widow if she was never to be his wife. Colonel Dacre had been ten days unconscious, and hovering so close on the edge of the “valley of the shadow,” that sometimes they thought he had gone for good, and could never creep back into the light again. But he had a strong constitution, and fought every inch of the ground resolutely.
At last Doctor May said:
“There will be a crisis to-night. I see a great change coming on, but whether for good or evil, I cannot tell as yet, since the rally before death often deceives us for the moment.”
“Couldn’t you remain with us?” inquired Miss Mordaunt wistfully. “I don’t mean sit up, for I know you oughtn’t to do that; but if you were sleeping in one of these rooms close to us, it would be a great comfort; and we need not call you unless it is absolutely necessary.”
There is not much men will not do for a beautiful woman who knows how to manage them, and Doctor May had long since lost the power of denying Colonel Dacre’s fiancée. He had promised himself elsewhere, but that did not weigh with him for a moment. He had been dreaming wild dreams of late. Hearts were caught in the rebound, and if anything happened to his patient, why should not he take his place?
Of course there was a great disparity between them, socially speaking; but he knew cases in which this had been ignored, and Miss Mordaunt did not appear the kind of person to stop at anything when she loved. He was ashamed of himself, but he could not help the thought. It is the fate of women who are so wondrously fair to make all the men who come in contact with them either dolts or knaves.
He turned to her with a faint smile.
“I will certainly remain if it is any comfort to you. I will go at once and see a few of my most pressing cases, and then return.”