Biddy stood and gibbered. There was that in her mistress's numb acquiescence that terrified her. "Sure, you'll kill her, Sir Eustace!" she gasped.
He made a compelling gesture. "You had better do as I say. If I want your help—or advice—I'll let you know. Do as I say! Do you hear me, Biddy?"
His voice fell suddenly and ominously to a note so deep that Biddy drew back still further affrighted and began to whimper.
Sir Eustace turned back to his sister, lying motionless on the pillow. "Tell her to go, Isabel! I am going to stay with you myself. You don't want her, do you?"
"No," said Isabel. "I want Scott."
"You can't have Scott to-night." There was absolute decision in his voice. "It is essential that he should get a rest. He looked ready to drop to-night."
"Ah! You think me selfish!" she said, catching her breath.
He sat down by her side. "No," he answered quietly. "But I think you have not the least idea how much he spends himself upon you. If you had, you would be shocked."
She moved restlessly. "You don't understand," she said. "You never understand. Eustace, I wish you would go away."
"I will go in half an hour," he made calm rejoinder, "if you have not moved during that time."