He could have bowed his head and wept over her to find her thus, all her bright beauty faded, her strength nearly spent, almost dying, he feared.
But he knew he must control himself and minister to her, if he would save her.
“Have you anything that will give her strength?” he asked, turning to her attendant.
“Yes; there are wines and liquors in the cabinet, and beef-tea warm upon the gas-stove in the bath-room.”
Earle had convinced himself with a glance before this that there was only one door to the bath-room, and he now commanded her to bring some of the beef-tea.
She brought it almost immediately.
“Taste it yourself first,” he said, curtly.
“You need not fear for her—I have no desire to have the life of any one to answer for,” she said scornfully, and flushing.
“Drink some of it,” he persisted.
He would not trust her, and she swallowed a mouthful unhesitatingly.