Josephine's lips trembled. "May I go?" she demanded of him.
There was a strange gentleness in his voice. "You're hurt. It would be impossible for you to go now. Don't be afraid. Don't! Don't!"
She looked at him keenly, in spite of her suffering. There seemed some change about him. At length, heavily, his head sunk, he left the room.
Jeanne herself, sobbing, tearful, withal overjoyed, rejoined her mistress. The two embraced as was best possible. As her senses cleared, a sort of relief came over Josephine. Now, she began to reason, for the time she was shielded by this infirmity; comforted also by the presence of one as weak and helpless as herself.
"It's an ill wind, Jeanne, which blows no one good," she smiled bravely. "See, now we are together again."
"Madame!" gulped Jeanne. "Madame!"
"Fie, fie, Jeanne! In time we shall be away from here."
"Madame, I like it not—this house. Something here is wrong. We must fly!"
"But, Jeanne, I am helpless. We must wait, now."
All that night and till morning of the next day they waited, alone, Dunwody not appearing, though continually old Sally brought up proofs of his solicitousness. At last there came the sound of hoofs on the gravel road, and there alighted at the door, dust-covered and weary, old Eleazar and Jamieson, the doctor of St. Genevieve. These were met by the master of Tallwoods himself.