"I am going," he said, looking at her.
"Yes, Dr. Staunton," she answered.
He closed his eyes again for a moment.
"The wife," he murmured—"does she know?"
"I am not sure," said Dorothy in her quiet, clear voice, which never for a moment sank to a whisper. "I think she must guess—I have not told her."
"She had better know," said the doctor. "Will you bring her here?"
"Yes, I'll go and fetch her at once."
Dorothy left the room. She stood for a moment on the landing.
The task which lay immediately before her made her spirits sink. She knew just as well as Dr. Staunton did how precarious was Mrs. Staunton's tenure of life. She knew that a sudden shock might be fatal. Were those children to lose both parents? The doctor was going,—no mortal aid now could avail for him,—but must the mother also leave the children?
"I do not know what to do," thought Dorothy. "She must see her husband—they must meet. He is the bravest man I know, but can he suppress his own feelings now—now that he is dying? No, no, it is too much to ask; but I greatly, greatly fear that if he does not, the shock will kill her."