They were alone with him for quite an hour, before the old housekeeper came in, to grasp at once what was wrong, and hurry to the couch.
“Oh, my child, why did you not ring for me?” she cried.
“Hush! Silence!” said the doctor, sternly. “The paroxysm has exhausted itself. With perfect quiet he may yet live.”
His hand was caught by Marion and passionately kissed, before she sank, half-fainting, in the old housekeeper’s arms.
Paddy went in and out on tip-toe, his action suggesting always that he was doing something in silence for a wager; and twice over his brother came in as the hours slipped past, but only to be sternly ordered to go by the doctor, who was then alone with Marion and the wounded man.
“But hang it all, sir!” he protested, “am I not to do what I like in my own house?”
“No, not while I am in charge of my patient.”
“But—”
“Look here, sir, I will not be answerable for his life if you stay,” whispered Chester, sharply.
The intruder bit his lips and glanced at Marion, then at the doctor and back. There was a world of meaning in his eyes, but Chester was too dreamy then to interpret it, and the man went away, but only for the far door to be re-opened and Paddy to make his appearance.