“Poor Frank—I hope it is only the shock and fatigue; but Dr. Worth wished him to be kept as quiet as possible. He can’t bear to see any one in the room, so that good Anne said she would sit in Charlie’s room close by.”
“Then he is really ill?” said Julius.
“He nearly fainted after walking over to Sirenwood in vain. I don’t understand it. There’s something very wrong there, which seems perfectly to have crushed him.”
“I’ll go up and see him,” said Julius. “You both of you look as if you ought to be in bed. How is Cecil, Raymond?”
“Quite knocked up,” he sleepily answered. “Here’s Susan, mother.”
Susan must have been waiting till she heard voices to carry off her mistress. Raymond pushed her chair into her room, bent over her with extra tenderness, bade her good night; and when Julius had done the same they stood by the drawing-room fire together.
“I’ve been trying to write that letter, Julius,” said Raymond, “but I never was so sleepy in my life, and I can’t get on with it.”
“What letter?”
“That letter. About the races.”
“Oh! That seems long ago!”