“Do not what?” cried Katrine, with a malignant look.
Lydia did not reply, but hurried back to where Capel was trying to raise himself up, trembling the while, as he gazed towards the window.
“Look,” he said harshly. “There. Don’t stop, Katrine, love. There is danger. Don’t stop now.”
Katrine’s face wore a strange waxen hue, as she caught the sick man’s hand.
The painful position was brought to an end by the coming of the doctors. Katrine’s quick ear was the first to give her warning of their approach, and without another word she softly left the room, stealing away so quietly that when Dr Heston entered, ushering in the great physician, Lydia hardly realised that she was alone.
“Still the same,” said Dr Heston. “Humph, yes. My dear madam, will you permit me?”
Lydia looked piteously in his face, losing her self-command the while, as Heston led her from the room, and closed the door, while as she heard it locked on the inside and the sound of the rings passing over the rod, she sank down sobbing on the lion-skin rug, burying her face in her hands, and ignorant of the fact that she was being watched.