He grew a little calmer presently under Diana's influence, and went slowly back to the house. He avoided the open window by which Charlotte was sitting. He had not yet schooled himself to meet her questioning looks. He went to the room where they were to dine, a duller and darker apartment than the parlour, and here he found Mr. Sheldon reading a paper, one of the eternal records of the eternal money-market.
The stockbroker had been in and out of the house all day, now sauntering by the sea-shore, now leaning moodily, with folded arms, on the garden gate, meditative and silent as the cow that stared at Charlotte; now pacing the garden walks, with his hands in his pockets and his head bent. Diana, who in her anxiety kept a close watch upon Mr. Sheldon's movements, had noted his restlessness, and perceived in it the sign of growing anxiety on his part. She knew that he had once called himself surgeon-dentist, and had some medical knowledge, if not so much as he took credit for possessing. He must, therefore, be better able to judge the state of Charlotte's health than utterly ignorant observers. If he were uneasy, there must be real cause for uneasiness. It was on this account, and on this account only, that Diana watched him.
"He must love her better than I gave him credit for being able to love any one," Miss Paget said to herself. "Dear girl! The coldest heart is touched by her sweetness."
Mr. Sheldon looked up from his newspaper as Valentine came into the room, and saluted the visitor with a friendly nod.
"Glad to see you, Hawkehurst," he said. "Semper fidelis, and that kind of thing; the very model of devoted lovers. Why, man alive, how glum you look!"
"I think I have reason to look glum," answered Valentine, gravely; "I have seen Charlotte."
"Yes? And don't you find her improving?—gradually, of course. That constitutional languor is not shaken off in a hurry. But surely you think her improving—brightening—"
"Brightening with the light that never shone on earth or sea. God help me! I—I—am the merest child, the veriest coward, the—" He made a great effort, and stifled the sob that had well-nigh broken his voice. "Mr. Sheldon," he continued quietly, "I believe your stepdaughter is dying."
"Dying! Good heavens!—my dear Hawkehurst, this alarm is most—most premature. There is no cause for fear—at present, no cause—I give you my word as a medical man."
"No cause for alarm at present? That means my darling will not be taken from me to-night, or to-morrow. I shall have a few days breathing-time. Yes, I understand. The doom is upon us. I saw the shadow of death upon her face to-day."