He had just left her, and was now waiting for the doctor, waiting for his verdict—life or death. Life or death! He had often heard, often used the words, but never until this moment knew their import.
Presently the doctor joined him, and Leycester uttered the one word:
"Well?"
"She will live," he said.
Leycester raised his head and drew a long breath. The doctor continued:
"Yes, I think I may say she will pull through. I shall know more to-morrow. You see, she has undergone a severe strain; I do not allude to the tragic incidents of the evening; those in themselves are sufficient to try a young girl; but she has been laboring under extreme nervous pressure for months past."
Leycester groaned.
"Come, come, my lord," said the doctor, cheerfully. "You may depend upon me. I should not hold out hope unless I had good reason for so doing. We shall save her, I trust and believe."
Leycester inclined his head; he could not speak. The doctor looked at him gravely.
"If you will permit me, my lord," he said, "I would suggest that you should now take some rest. You are far from strong yourself."