Deringham did not move, but watched his daughter as she took up the glass and phial. "It is important that he should have the draught?" he said.
"Yes," she said in a voice that thrilled a little as she stood very straight before him. "I think it would make all the difference between—a girl without a dowry, and the mistress of Carnaby."
Then she pointed as it were commandingly towards the door, and Deringham went out with a white face, as though she had struck him upon it, while Alice Deringham shivered and sank down limply into the chair. She sat still for a moment with eyes that shone mistily and a great sense of humility, and then, rousing herself with an effort, moved towards the bed and touched the sick man gently. He opened his eyes as she did so, and there was no glitter in them now, but a dawning comprehension. He seemed to smile a little when she raised his head.
"You must drink this," she said.
Alton made a gesture of understanding, and drained the glass, then let his head fall back, and feebly stretched out his hand until it touched her fingers. The girl did not move, and his grasp tightened suddenly.
"Hold me fast. I am slipping—slipping down," he said.
Alice Deringham returned the pressure of the clinging fingers, and as she saw a curious unreasoning confidence creep into the haggard face her eyes once more shone through a gathering mistiness. "I will hold you fast," she said.
"Yes," said the sick man in a strained voice. "You will not let go. It's five hundred feet to the river—in the dark below. I'm slipping, slipping—no holding in the snow."
He ceased and looked up at her suddenly as though the fear had left him, and the girl said very softly, "Don't you know me?"
"Yes," said the man. "Of course. I was sliding back into the gully, but I knew you would help me."