The old doctor answered, genially:
“I have no wish to pry into family secrets, but it is best that I should stay, that I may render assistance should you overtax your feeble powers.”
They brought Frederick Foster and Janetta, and there were eight of them forming a curious, anxious group about the bed.
Across the hall, gasping for breath, and tossing restlessly from side to side in the pain of internal injuries, was a woman who would have taken as great an interest as any in the novel scene transpiring so close to her; but no one gave her a single thought, no one supposed that the humble servant, Rachel Dane, could have taken any interest in the event, much less have thrown a light on the dark mystery that had saddened several hopeful lives. Everything had been so closely guarded that little of it had come to her knowledge. Janetta had told her that Mr. Dawn’s daughter and her friends had come, that was all.
The suffering woman had a lively interest to see Cinthia, whom she had nursed as a little child, and of whom her aunt had talked so much, but she knew that her curiosity must bide the proper time.
A house-maid had come in just now, and said:
“Janetta, you are wanted in Mr. Dawn’s room. I will stay here until you come back.”
Janetta went as bidden, and stationed herself at the back of the arm-chair where her mistress was sitting, close to the bed.
Then Everard Dawn exclaimed, clearly:
“Paulina!”