“Oh, Hallett!” I cried.
“Yes, you are right,” he said. “What would become of them? I must get better, Antony, better, but sometimes—sometimes—”
“Don’t speak to him any more,” whispered Mary; “he is so weak that his poor head wanders.”
“But, Mary, the doctor; does he say there is any danger?”
“No, no, my dear. He is to sleep all he can. There, go down now. I’m going to sit up to-night.”
I went down, leaving Mary to her weary vigil; for my head ached terribly, and I was very giddy.
Linny was in the sitting-room, and she uttered an exclamation.
“Why, how bad you look, Antony!” she cried.
“Do I?” I said with a laugh; “I had a bit of a fall, and it has shaken me. But, Linny dear, I have a message for you.”
“For me, Antony?” she said, turning white.