Daisie begged her to be quiet, promising to do what she could to help on Royall’s recovery.
“I shall stay anyhow until to-morrow, if you will stay with me, Annette,” she said; and this the young girl readily promised to do.
When Mrs. Fleming came to them presently, they told her this; and as she saw that all her threats could not force Daisie into acquiescence she had to be content with what the girl offered.
She said sullenly:
“Perhaps you will both wish to retire now, as Royall cannot bear any further excitement to-night. In fact, another physician has been telegraphed for from Baltimore, as an operation will have to be performed to find and remove the bullet.”
A sob from each girl showed how deeply the words moved them. Then Annette said pleadingly:
“Daisie, you must let me share your room, for I’m so nervous I shan’t be able to sleep a wink, and I’ll feel better if I have company.”
“So shall I,” returned Daisie sadly; and they were shown to a beautiful room, whose soft white couch invited sound repose.
But, alas! In Daisie’s heart there was grief that murdered sleep, so that she spent the hours till dawn in a dreary vigil, wondering what the morrow would bring to her, not daring to hope for Royall Sherwood’s death, since that would be a sin, yet conscious that such a catastrophe would mean freedom and happiness for her and Dallas. As for Mrs. Fleming’s terrible accusation, she believed it was only a ruse to force her into terms, and determined not to let it influence her decision.
Annette, too, must have had some hidden sorrow aching at her heart, for she did not even lie down, but remained for hours sitting at an open window, staring out into the darkness with big solemn eyes that saw nothing but despair in the unknown future.