Oldroyd and Mrs Alleyne resumed their places by the patient, the observatory being turned into a sick chamber, and mattresses and bedding were brought down; and there the astronomer lay, in the midst of the trophies of his study, his instruments and his piles of notes; the great grim tubes pointing through the opened shutters at the far-off worlds, towards which it almost seemed as if—weary with the struggle to reach them while chained to earth—he was about to wing his flight.
Lucy came in on tiptoe to bend forward over her brother, but Oldroyd rose.
“Go back, dear,” he said, “and get some refreshment. It is time you dined.”
“Dined!—at a time like this!” she said reproachfully.
“Yes; at a time like this. It will be a case of long nights of watching. He must not be left, and we must have strength to attend him through it all. Leave it to me, dear, and do as I wish.”
Lucy bent down and kissed his hand in token of obedience, and soon after joined Sir John and the major in the dining-room.
“Can I do anything else now?” said Sir John; “if not, I’ll go. I promised Glynne to go back with news as soon as there was any to carry. Are you coming, Jem?”
“No,” said the major quietly. “I’m going to stop and help, if it’s only to see that Miss Lucy here has rest and food.”