The tutor looked at him wonderingly.
“Haven’t you heard,” he replied, “of his changed condition?”
“No,” responded Parmenter, huskily, backing up against a tree for support. “How changed—worse?”
“Yes, much worse. An intense fever, accompanied by delirium, set in last evening and rapidly exhausted him. He lies now in a state of coma, with symptoms of heart failure.”
“Will—will he die?”
Parmenter’s lips were white, his knees were trembling, his voice was scarcely audible.
“They have little hope of saving his life. The end may come at any moment. Here, take my arm. The news has unnerved you. I am going your way; I will walk with you.”
Parmenter went to his room, but he could not stay there. In ten minutes he was out on the campus asking for the latest news from Charley. He sat on the terrace wall in a place where he could watch the Lee house. As often as the door opened he caught his breath in the dread that some one would bring out news of Charley’s death.
But Charley still lived. The spark of life in his body paled and glowed alternately, and as the day wore on, hope revived.
Late in the afternoon Parmenter caught sight of Doctor Park, hurrying along in front of South College. He ran and overtook him.