Crampton said no more, but he walked to the window with his face buried in his great yellow silk handkerchief, blowing his nose with a continuity and force which became at last so unbearable that Mrs Van Heldre went out into the hall.
She went back soon into the dining-room where Crampton was waiting anxiously.
“He looked at me when I was in the room with my darling child, Mr Crampton, and his lips parted, and he spoke to me, and I was obliged to come away, for fear I should do him harm.”
“Come away, ma’am! and at a time like that!” said Crampton, angrily.
Mrs Van Heldre drew herself up with dignity.
“My child signed to me to go,” she said quietly; and then with her eyes brimming over with tears, “Do you think I would not have given the world to stay?”
At that moment Madelaine came quickly and softly into the room.
“He is sleeping,” she whispered excitedly; “he looked at me and smiled, and then his eyes closed and he seemed to go into a calm sleep, not that terrible stupor, but sleep. Mother, come and see—it must be sleep.”
Old Crampton was left alone to begin pacing the room excitedly for a few minutes, when Madelaine came down once more.
“Pray go for Dr Knatchbull!” she cried piteously. “But isn’t he—”