Helen followed Carmody into the hall. "Tell me the truth," she demanded. "Is he injured internally?"
"It's hard to say what his injuries are," he cautiously replied. "He's badly bruised and feverish, but it may be nothing serious. However, he can't travel for a few days, that's certain."
She was not entirely reassured by his reply, and her voice was bitterly accusing as she said: "If he should die, I would never forgive myself. He came here on my account."
"There's no immediate danger. He seems strong and will probably throw this fever off in a few hours, but he must be kept quiet and cheerful."
There was a rebuke in his final words, and she accepted it as such. "I'll do the best I can, Doctor," she replied, and returned to her duty.
Hanscom, divining some part of the passion of self-accusation into which the girl had been thrown, eagerly asked, "Is there something more I can do?"
"If you will have our bags brought, I shall be grateful. We may not be able to leave for several days."
"I'll attend to them at once, but"—he looked aside as if afraid of revealing something—"I may be called away during the afternoon on business, and if I am, don't think I'm neglecting you."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I can't tell—for a day or two, perhaps."