"You don't think her worse—much worse—do you, Valentine?"
"Worse? I have seen death in her face to-day!" he cried; and then he let his forehead fall upon his folded arms, and sobbed aloud.
Diana stood by his side watching that outburst of grief. When the passionate storm of tears was past, she comforted him as best she might. The change so visible to him was not so plain to her. He had hoped that the breath of the ocean would have magical power to restore the invalid. He had come to Harold's Hill full of hope, and instead of the beginning of an improvement he saw the progress of decay.
"Why did not Sheldon send for the doctor," he asked, indignantly,—"the physician who has attended her? He might have telegraphed to that man."
"Charlotte is taking Dr. Doddleson's medicine," said Diana, "and all his directions are most carefully obeyed."
"What of that, if she grows worse? The doctor should see her daily, hourly, if necessary. And if he cannot cure her, another doctor should be sent for. Good heavens, Diana! are we to let her fade and sink from us before our eyes? I will go back to London at once, and bring that man Doddleson down by the night mail."
"Your going back to London would grieve and alarm Charlotte. You can telegraph for the doctor; or, at least, Mr. Sheldon can do so. It would not do for you to interfere without his permission."
"It would not do!" echoed Valentine, angrily. "Do you think that I am going to stand upon punctilio, or to consider what will do or will not do?"
"Above all things, you must avoid alarming Charlotte," pleaded Diana.
"Do you think I do not know that? Do you think I did not feel that just now, when I sat by her side, talking inane rubbish about books and plays and pictures, while every stolen glance at my darling's face was like a dagger thrust into my heart? I will not alarm her. I will consult Mr. Sheldon—will do anything, everything, to save her! To save her! O my God, has it come to that?"