The doctor was tall, thin, black, like an elongated crow.
"Ah yes—no, I think there is nothing for the moment—there are two of us here—we instantly wired to London and the London men should be here if they catch the seven o'clock in an hour and a half. Lady Seddon is with her husband."
"There's hope?"
"Oh yes—I think Sir Roderick will live—It's the spine that's damaged."
He seemed to realize Miss Rand's efficiency. This was no ordinary country-house visitor. He went to the hall door and opened it. "I'm waiting for the things from Lewes. I just came on with what I'd got. Yes, the spine ... afraid will never be able to get about again—such a strong fellow too."
"There's nothing I can do?"
"Nothing anyone can do for the moment. Lady Seddon's taking it wonderfully, but she'll want you later. I advise you to get some quiet in the next hour—it's afterwards that they'll need your help——"
Lizzie went up to her room and lay down on her bed. She did not light the candles, but lay there in the darkness striving to compel some order out of the turmoil that rioted in her brain—her first thought was of Roddy. Roddy had always been to her the supreme type of animal spirits and vigour—that had been, above everything else, what he stood for. That he should have been struck down like this!
The cruelty, the irony of it! Much better that he should die than be compelled to lie on his back for the rest of his life—anything better for him than that—
If he died Rachel would be free. Lizzie faced that thought quite calmly! her quarrel with Rachel seemed to be now very, very long ago, something distant and remote, something whose very conditions had been torn asunder and flung aside—