“I will, my boy,” the old doctor said, and went up to the Castle, thinking deeply.
“One” boomed out from the clock upon the church tower, and Pauly stirred and moaned. His father was on his feet in a second, but Hugh signed for silence and put something in a spoon between the child’s lips. Pauly cuddled himself close into the circle of the young man’s arm, and closed his eyes.
“Is he going?” whispered the poor father hoarsely.
“Hush!” Hugh said, and there was silence again.
An hour went slowly by. Hugh was sitting now upon a high nursery chair beside the little cot, but sideways, that he might not move the arm on which the child was resting. Two struck, and the Vicar, with a long look at the little wasted face, rose from his knees and stole out to the hospital.
Three struck, and four: the Vicar had returned, with a whispered, word to Hugh that all was well at the hospital and in the village, and Dr. Mitchell, who had come to their help, satisfied. Outside it was very dark. Mr. Seaton rose and looked long and earnestly from the window.
“Is there a light in the passage next her room?” Hugh’s voice was hardly more than a thread of sound.
The Vicar came across and laid a hand upon the young man’s shoulder.
“No.”
The nursery clock, ticking on evenly, sounded very loud in the stillness. The nurse stole into the room to peer round the shaded lamp at the little patient, and then go away again.