They raised her between them with infinite care and flattened the cushions beneath her. Then Saltash, his queer face full of the most earnest concern began to chafe one of the nerveless hands.
Fielding tramped ceaselessly up and down the room, his head on his chest. Every time he drew near his wife he glanced at her and swung away again, as one without hope.
After a brief interval the door opened to admit a silent footed butler bearing a tray. Saltash turned upon him swiftly.
"Brandy, Billings? That's right. And look here! Find Mrs. Parsons! Tell her a lady has been taken ill in the library! She had better get a bed ready, and have some boiling water handy. Anything else?" He looked at Juliet.
She shook her head. "No, nothing till the doctor comes. I hope he won't be long."
Saltash poured out some brandy. Fielding came to a standstill behind
Juliet, and stood looking on.
"We won't lift her again," whispered Juliet. "Try a spoon!"
He gave it to her, and she slipped it between the white lips. But there was no sign of life, no attempt to swallow.
"She is dead!" said Fielding heavily.
Saltash glanced at him. "I think not," he said gently. "I'm nearly certain I felt her pulse move just now."