"Have you written or telegraphed to Mr. Granger?" Lady Geraldine asked gravely.
"No, no, no; there can be no necessity now. Dr. Ormond says there is hope."
"Hope, yes; but these little lives are so fragile. I implore you to send to him. It is only right."
"I will think about it, by and by, perhaps, if he should grow any worse; but I know he is getting better. O, Lady Geraldine, have some pity upon me! If my husband finds out where I am, he will rob me of my child."
The words were hardly spoken, when there was a loud double-knock at the door below, a delay of some two minutes, and then a rapid step on the stair—a step that set Clarissa's heart beating tumultuously. She sat down by the bed, clinging to it like an animal at bay, guarding her cub from the hunter.
The door was opened quickly, and Daniel Granger came into the room. He went straight to the bed, and bent down to look at his child.
The boy had been light-headed in the night, but his brain was clear enough now. He recognised his father, and smiled—a little wan smile, that went to the strong man's heart.
"My God, how changed he is!" exclaimed Mr. Granger. "How long has he been ill?"
"Very little more than a week, sir," Jane Target faltered from the background.
"More than a week! and I am only told of his illness to-day, by a telegram from Lady Laura Armstrong! I beg your pardon, Lady Geraldine; I did not see you till this moment. I owe it to your sister's consideration that I am here in time to see my boy before he dies."