"Hester is not in a condition to receive messages," said the Bishop. "She would not believe them. Dr. Brown says the only thing we can do for her is to show Regie to her. If she sees him she may believe her own eyes, and this frightful excitement may be got under. I came to take him back with me now in the carriage."
"I will not let him go," said Mrs. Gresley, the mother in her overriding her awe of the Bishop. "I am sorry if Hester is ill. I will"—and Mrs. Gresley made a superhuman effort—"I will come and nurse her myself, but I won't have Regie frightened a second time."
"He shall not be frightened a second time. But it is very urgent. While we are wasting time talking, Hester's life is ebbing away as surely as if she were bleeding to death. If she were actually bleeding in this room how quickly you two would run to her and bind up the wound. There would be nothing you would not do to relieve her suffering."
"If I would let Regie go," said Mrs. Gresley, "he would not be willing, and we could not have him taken away by force, could we, James?"
The door opened, and Regie appeared, gently pushed from behind by Fräulein's thin hand. Boulou followed. The door was closed again immediately, almost on Boulou's tail.
The Bishop and Regie looked hard at each other.
"I send my love to Auntie Hester," said Regie, in his catechism voice, "and I am quite well."
"I should like to have some conversation with Regie alone," said the Bishop.
Mrs. Gresley wavered, but the Bishop's eye remained fixed on Mr. Gresley, and the latter led his wife away. The door was left ajar, but the Bishop closed it. Then he sat down by the fire and held out his hand.
Regie went up to him fearlessly, and stood between his knees. The two faces were exactly on the same level. Boulou sat down before the fire, his tail uncurling in the heat.