“Poor wretch!” exclaimed Dutch. “There,” he cried, impetuously, “don’t talk of enemies at such a time. I forgive him the ill he did to me. May God be merciful too!”
“Amen,” said Hester beneath her breath; and then she shuddered and clung more closely to her husband, for so shaken had her nerves been that it seemed to her even now they were not free from the Cuban’s influence.
“Can you not save his life?” said Dutch. “He should have time to repent.”
“But would he?” said Mr Meldon. “I fear life to him would only be the opportunity to work us all more ill.”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t think of that, man,” cried Dutch. “Have you tried all you could to save him?”
“I have tried all I know,” said the doctor earnestly. “I cannot think of one hour’s lapse of duty.”
“No, no, of course not,” said Dutch, holding out his hand. “I insult you by such a supposition.”
“Miss Studwick is beckoning to you, Mr Meldon,” exclaimed Hester suddenly; and turning they saw her upon her knees evidently in alarm.
“Poor fellow!” muttered the doctor almost in a whisper; but the young couple heard him, and stood watching anxiously, for though John Studwick’s death was expected, they had hoped that he might first reach home.
He had been gazing for quite an hour at the glorious sky, and had apparently been no worse than usual; but now the change had come suddenly, and no one knew it more than he.