Mrs. Mandeville remained with Carol throughout the day, suffering no one to relieve her for one hour. As soon as he was told the telegram had been sent to Miss Desmond, he rested quite satisfied. But as the day wore on to evening, Mrs. Mandeville, standing over him, saw he was suffering acutely.
"You are in pain, darling," she said.
"Auntie, please don't ask me. I am trying to deny it. Couldn't you deny it for me, too?"
His lips were quivering; tears he strove bravely to keep back were stealing down his cheeks. How could she deny it? She would have given anything to be able to do so.
"Cousin Alicia must have had the telegram by this, Auntie, mustn't she?"
"Yes, dear; I think so. Being Sunday, it has taken longer to get through. Uncle has heard from the postmaster at W--, the nearest town, as the village telegraph office would be closed. The message has been sent on by messenger on horseback. So I think Miss Desmond must have received it by this time."
"She might have been out when it arrived, Auntie."
"Do you expect to feel less pain, dear, when Miss Desmond receives the telegram?"
"Yes, Auntie, I know I shall."
Seven o'clock--eight o'clock--nine o'clock passed. No reply telegram came. Mrs. Mandeville wrote a letter to go by the evening post, giving more details, and describing Carol's great desire to have a message from her. Dr. Burton came again at night. His instructions had been carried out. The medicine sent had been given every hour. Still the patient's temperature was higher, the pain he was suffering more acute, and the symptoms which pointed to meningitis more pronounced. "If he could sleep--a long natural sleep might save him," Dr. Burton said.