She rose. And suddenly gladness died from her face, her arms dropped to her sides; something of the old misery, but not all, settled down on her once more.
‘I can go,’ she said. ‘I—I am not so afraid now, when it is day; but—he said——’
Poor child! she had remembered the bargain of the night before. She had not thought it worthy of thought then, believing Death indeed lay before her when she drank that draught; but when she woke, when memory returned to her (and it always came quickly after such a draught as that), she had gladly told herself that now all her troubles were at an end, that the old man would provide for her, protect her. And now this young man, so forbidding, so unkind, with his harsh voice and ways; and yet last night he had seemed so kind!
‘He is dying!’ said Wyndham shortly. ‘A doctor must be summoned without delay. I shall arrange for your going—for your safety; but you must be quick.’ He rang the bell for Denis, who was waiting for him below. The Professor’s only servant was a charwoman, who left nightly at ten, and did not return till the same time next morning.
‘You need provide for nothing,’ said the girl. She caught up the little shawl that had been wrapped round her last night, and moved towards the door.
‘Stay a moment; you can’t go like this,’ said the young man distractedly. ‘I have a servant who will take you to some place of safety. It is impossible that you should go like this. Why’—awkwardly—‘you haven’t even got a bonnet.’
She stopped and looked at him.
‘It is not you who are responsible,’ she said. ‘And’—she drew her breath quickly—‘after all, no one is. I took that drug of my own accord, of my own will, but he did promise to—to—— But if he is dying?’ She looked at him anxiously, making the last speech a question.
‘I am afraid so.’
‘Then that is at an end.’ She went towards the door.