"I can do nothing more," he said. "If he lived he would have brain fever. But he is dying."
"Does he know her?"
"No. He may know her at the last, but it is doubtful. I can do nothing, and I am wanted elsewhere."
"I will stop," said the Bishop.
"Shall I take you back?" said Dr. Brown, looking at Dick. But Dick shook his head.
"I might be of use to her," he said, when the doctor had gone.
So the two men who loved Rachel sat in impotent compassion in the little kitchen through the interminable hours of the night. At long intervals the Bishop went quietly into the parlor, but apparently he was not wanted there. Once he went out and got a fresh candle, and put it into the tin candlestick, and set it among the china ornaments on wool-work mats.
Hugh lay quite still now with his eyes half closed. His hands lay passive in Rachel's. The restless fever of movement was passed. She almost wished it back, so far, so far was his life ebbing away from hers.
"Hughie," she whispered to him over and over again. "I love you. Do not leave me."
But he muttered continually to himself and took no heed of her.