"Trust in me," she repeated; "all will be well. Let me see you take some coffee."
The countess rang and ordered some coffee; then, when she had compelled Lady Marion to drink it, she kissed her again.
"Do you know how it will end?" she said gently, "all this crying and fasting and sorrow? You will make yourself very ill, and then Lance will never forgive himself. Do be reasonable, Marion, and leave it all with me."
But after the countess had left her, Lady Marion still felt very ill; she had never felt so ill; she tried to walk from her dressing-room to her bedroom, and to the great alarm of her maid, she fell fainting to the ground.
The doctor came, the same physician who had attended her for some years since she was a child, and he looked very grave when he heard of the long deathlike swoon. He sat talking to her for some time.
"Do you think I am very ill, doctor?" she asked.
He answered:
"You are not very well, my dear Lady Chandos."
"Do you think I will die?"
"Not of this illness, please God," he said. "Now, if you will promise me not to be excited, I will tell you something," and, bending down, he whispered something in her ear.