Aunt Anne drew back, and signed to Neil to come to her side.
“Speak to him,” she whispered. “Try and say something to comfort him, dear.”
“It would be folly,” replied Neil sadly, “and only increase his irritation.”
“Oh, but, my dear!” she whispered.
“Aunt, it was what I feared, and he has grasped the truth.”
“Neil!”
“Wait till Sir Denton comes, and let him decide.”
He went back to the side of the couch, and sat down to watch and wait, ready to try and alleviate pain, and wipe the drops of agony from the sufferer’s brow from time to time.
And so an hour passed without the patient once unclosing his eyes, but it was plain that he did not sleep; a sharp twitch across the face now and again eliciting a faint groan.
Aunt Anne had been out twice to speak to Isabel, who was weeping silently in the adjoining room.