She started violently.
“Yes, sir; I beg your pardon for seeming inattentive,” she said, and the color leaped into her face for a moment.
She waited a few moments, but he seemed suddenly to have become as absent-minded as she had been.
She glanced at him, and was amazed at his appearance, while the doctor and Mr. Ashley exchanged wondering glances.
Mr. Conrad was an elderly man of about sixty; his hair was gray, and his face was wrinkled, but it was a noble face withal.
At this moment it seemed to be convulsed with pain.
His lips were drawn into a tight line across his teeth, and were almost livid, while the cords stood out hard and knotted upon his forehead, and the hand which held the will trembled visibly.
Brownie forgot herself instantly when she saw his evident suffering.
“Mr. Conrad, are you ill? Let me call Jones to get you something,” she exclaimed, half rising to ring the bell.
“No, Miss Douglas, keep your seat. My illness is of the mind, not of the body,” he replied, in tones of deepest pain.