"Thank God you have come; though I'm afraid it's too late," he said in a hoarse whisper, wringing Kenneth's hand.
"Don't despair, while there's life, there's hope," Kenneth answered feelingly. "Shall I go to her at once?"
"Yes; but maybe you'd like to see Buell first. He's in here," opening an inner door.
Dr. Buell, who was seated at a table measuring out medicines, rose and came forward to meet Dr. Clendenin.
The two shook hands cordially, Buell saying, "I am very glad to see you, sir! You are the family physician, and I trust will now take charge of the case."
"I should like to consult with you, doctor," Kenneth said. "What is the disease?"
In answer Dr. Buell gave a full report of the symptoms and the treatment thus far; the two consulted for a few moments, then went together to the sick room.
They entered noiselessly. The room was silent as the grave. The patient lay in a deathlike sleep; and beside her, motionless as a statue, watching intently for the slightest movement, sat, not the mother, she was too nervous, too full of real or imaginary ailments of her own, to be a fit nurse for her child, but Nell Lamar, sweeter, fairer, lovelier in her lover's eyes than ever before.
His heart thrilled with ecstatic joy at the sight, but her eyes remained fixed upon the deathlike face on the pillow, and a slight deepening of the rose on her cheek alone gave token of a consciousness of their entrance.
They lingered but a moment, withdrew as noiselessly as they had entered, and held a second consultation.