“But I was never sure of him all the time, except for those few hours yesterday,” she thought. “I felt there was something behind. When Dr Maclure spoke to me that afternoon I knew that he meant all, and more than all, that he said; but it is not easy to make the imitation like the real thing. The moment I heard him speak to Margot I knew the difference—oh, such a difference! I shall never be deceived again.”
She sat trifling with her fruit, unheeding the conversation around her, yet dimly conscious that a passage-at-arms was still being carried on between Mr Farrell and Jack; the former indulging in caustic remarks at the young man’s expense, Jack replying with more or less irritation.
A sudden gleam of excitement on Victor’s face recalled her wandering thoughts, in time to hear Jack reply quickly—
“You are quite right, I am an invalid no longer. I walked about most of the afternoon and feel none the worse. I can manage even the stairs with a little help. In another few days I shall be ready for work. There will then be no need for me any longer to trespass—”
Suddenly he stopped; and though Mr Farrell sat waiting in silence for several moments, he did not attempt to finish the sentence; for another gentle pressure on the elbow had reminded him of the wisdom of self-control. He sat with downcast eyes and firmly shut lips until Mr Farrell’s mocking voice broke the silence.
“Since Mr Melland has nothing more to say, it would perhaps be as well if we made a move. I will ask you to excuse me for the rest of the evening, as I am feeling fatigued.”
He rose as he spoke and turned towards the door, but even as he did so he staggered, and uttered an exclamation of pain. Mrs Wolff echoed the cry and sank back in her chair helpless and unnerved; but in an instant Victor was at his side, supporting him with a strong, steady arm.
“Send for James,” he said, addressing the butler in the quiet tones of one who knows how to keep his head in an emergency. “Let me help you into the hall, sir; you will have more air there. Lean upon me!”
They moved slowly forward together, the bowed figure seeming momentarily to shrink in stature, while the glimpse of cheek, as he turned towards the door, was so ashen in colour that the girls clasped each other’s hands in dismay. Then James appeared, alert, composed, capable, a carrying-chair was brought forward from some secret hiding-place, and the invalid was borne upstairs to his room.
“It’s one of his ‘turns,’ miss,” the butler explained to Ruth. “He used to have them constantly, but it’s the first since you came. We’ll send down for the doctor, and he’ll probably stay all night. You can never tell how things may go!”