“Yes,” said he, in the same tone as before.
“And will be still better to-morrow, I trust, and able to come out and take this long walk with me we have so often promised ourselves.”
Kellett turned and looked him full in the face. The expression of his features was that of one vainly struggling with some confusion of ideas, and earnestly endeavoring to find his way through difficulties, and a faint, painful sigh at last showed that the attempt was a failure.
“What does this state mean? Is it mere depression, or is it serious illness?” whispered Bella.
“I am not skilful enough to say,” replied Conway, cautiously; “but I hope and trust it is only the effect of a shock, and will pass off as it came.”
“Ay,” said Kellett, in a tone that startled them, and for a moment they fancied he must have overheard them; but one glance at his meaningless features showed that they had no ground for their fears.
“The evil is deeper than that,” whispered Bella, again. “This cold dew on his forehead, those shiverings that pass over him from time to time, and that look in his eye, such as I have never seen before, all betoken a serious malady. Could you fetch a doctor,—some one in whom you place confidence?”
“I do know of one, in whom I have the fullest reliance,” said Conway, rising hastily. “I'll go for him at once.”
“Lose not a moment, then,” said Bella, as she took the place he had just vacated, and placed her hand on her father's, as Conway had done.
Kellett's glance slowly followed Conway to the door, and then turned fully in Bella's face, while, with a voice of a thrilling distinctness, he said, “Too late, darling,—too late!”