For several hours it was doubtful whether Mr. Lambert would ever speak again. The physician told Marion that his case was a very critical one, but at length they were able to force down a tonic, and soon after he sank into slumber.
The room was darkened, every sound hushed, and the faithful valet sat alone to watch and wait by his master's bedside.
It was night when he awoke; the physician had been in and out several times, and ordered a few spoonsful of nourishment as soon as he awoke. This was given him and he tried to speak.
"Miss Howard."
"She is not here. She said she would be back early in the morning."
"I may not live till then. Take—a—pen—and—write. With my dying breath I ask her to forgive me.—I leave to her—all—that I have—in the—world,—with my dying—love and blessing. She, Miss—Howard, will—know who—I mean. Tell her not to let our daughter think too hard of her father. Fold—it and direct to Miss Howard."
Meanwhile Marion had returned home in such a state of excitement and fatigue that the physician, who took her there, sent her at once to bed, and ordered Hepsey to give her a powerful anodyne. When she woke, Mr. Lambert's servant had been to say that he wanted to see her as soon as she was able. Hepsey insisted that she should not go until she had eaten a hearty breakfast.
"I think you ought to consider what Mr. Angus would say," she urged, "and for his sake take a little care of your health."
"Hepsey, I feared last night that Mr. Lambert was dead, and, oh, Hepsey, it was what I had been telling him that made him fall into the swoon! You will not wonder that I was sick with fear when I tell you about it."
"I shall tell Mr. Angus that you've had enough of excitement for one life, and he'd better get you to the country as soon as he can."