“He will die to-day,” said Rayel, calmly. “He told me he would die to-day.”
“He seems the same as usual,” I said. “We cannot tell; he may live for months yet.”
Rayel shook his head incredulously, and sat for a long time looking out of the window in silence.
“And I will go with you then?” he asked suddenly turning toward me.
“Yes,” I answered.
It was the first time he had ever asked me a question, for he could read my mind like an open book, and to him all questioning was unnecessary.
While we were sitting there, thinking over our plans, my uncle summoned us by rapping with his cane. Rayel turned pale, and, with a whispered ejaculation, hurried out of the room and ran down the path to his father, followed closely by myself. My uncle was breathing heavily.
“Count it,” said he, feebly extending his hand. Rayel counted his pulse-beats.
“Ninety-four, and growing quicker!” he exclaimed, turning toward me with a frightened look.
“It won't increase much,” my uncle whispered, feebly, but with a cool and professional air. “It will go down soon, and then death will follow.”