“God forbid!” Mr Burton cried, and was slightly ashamed of his excitement. “He is badly hurt, Mrs Lawless. But he has a wonderful spirit. He will get over this all right. And with you here to nurse him, why, bless me! he’ll enjoy being ill.”
She smiled, but so wanly that it was in his idea infinitely sadder than tears.
“What do you think?” she said, and looked inquiringly at Colonel Grey... “Ought I to let him know that I am here?”
“Well, he’s got to know some time, I suppose,” he answered, and appealed to the schoolmaster. “He isn’t so ill but that he can stand a little excitement, eh?”
“Excitement of that nature would not be likely to hurt him,” Mr Burton answered confidently out of his profound ignorance. “I was just about to visit him. I’m sitting with him to-day. If it is agreeable to you I will break it to him that you are here.”
He left them and went upon his errand cheerfully, pleasantly anticipating Lawless’ satisfaction in the news. The patient’s reception of his wonderful intelligence was an added astonishment to the many surprises of that day. It chilled his gladness as completely as cold water flung upon a cheerful blaze. There was a little spluttering, and the blaze was finally extinguished.
“Help me into my clothes, Burton,” the man in the bed said querulously.
“No,” Mr Burton refused. “It would be the death of you.”
“Then, get out of this, and I’ll dress myself.”
The schoolmaster deliberately approached the bed, and looked down kindly into the tormented eyes that stared up at him out of the pallid face upon the pillow. He put out a restraining hand as the patient pushed the bedclothes fretfully aside and attempted to sit up.