On his way out he looked into the drawing-room and there was Mrs. Quest, still sitting on the chair and gazing blankly before her. Pitying her he entered. “Come, cheer up, Mrs. Quest,” he said kindly, “they hope that he will live.”
She made no answer.
“It is an awful accident, but I am almost as culpable as you, for I left the cartridges in the gun. Anyhow, God’s will be done.”
“God’s will!” she said, looking up, and then once more relapsed into silence.
He turned to go, when suddenly she rose and caught him by the arm.
“Will he die?” she said almost fiercely. “Tell me what you think—not what the doctors say; you have seen many wounded men and know better than they do. Tell me the truth.”
“I cannot say,” he answered, shaking his head.
Apparently she interpreted his answer in the affirmative. At any rate she covered her face with her hands.
“What would you do, Colonel Quaritch, if you had killed the only thing you loved in the whole world?” she asked dreamily. “Oh, what am I saying?—I am off my head. Leave me—go and tell Ida; it will be good news for Ida.”
Accordingly he started for the Castle, having first picked up his gun on the spot where it had fallen from the hands of Mrs. Quest.