The hours lagged by on leaden wings. Why did not the messenger return?
It was late in the afternoon when he made his appearance. He was out of breath from running up the flight of stairs, and he handed her back—her own note.
"Could you not find the gentleman? I told you to leave the note if he was not in!" she said sharply, so keen was her disappointment.
"Yes'm, I know you did," the boy answered, "but there was people there, and a doctor. And the doctor he came to the door, and he said as the gentleman mustn't be disturbed—he was sick, and goin' to die before mornin', perhaps. And I felt scared like, and come off without leaving the letter."
The boy turned away, and Dolores closed the door upon him, quickly, as if to shut out his evil message with him.
Sick, dying! and who were the people with him? who had the right to be with him and minister to his needs, save herself? It was her place—hers only. She must go to him—she must save him by the strength of her love.
She did not wait to make any change in her attire. She seized the nearest garment at hand—a soft white shawl, and a hat with nodding white plumes, and hurried forth.
When she reached the building in which Percy's apartments were situated, she met the physician just emerging from the street door. She forced a calm exterior as she addressed him.