“No; there is not the slightest hope of that. The physician does not think he can live many days. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and see if he feels able to see you, as he wished to be told the moment you arrived,” madam concluded, rising, and with a graceful bow, left him once more alone.
She had not been gone many minutes when a servant entered, bearing a tray, on which was arranged a most tempting lunch.
“Madam directed this to be served,” explained the servant; and again Earle wondered who this cultivated woman could be, who was evidently a power in the house.
He partook of the lunch, however, with evident relish, for he was hungry, having been too eager and excited to do justice to his breakfast that morning.
Half an hour later madam returned, saying that Mr. Dalton was ready and anxious to see him.
He arose and followed her to the sick man’s chamber, and almost wondering if it could be true that he was about to stand at his own father’s death-bed, and if ever before a son stood in such strange relations toward a parent.
He was shocked at the change in Mr. Dalton.
Ghastly, wan, and panting with every breath, he lay bolstered up with pillows, and Earle knew at a glance that he could not live many days.
An expression of pain convulsed his features as the door opened and his anxious eyes rested upon the young man’s handsome face and noble form; and then, with a slight motion of his head, he signified his wish for him to come and sit beside him.
It was a strange, sad meeting of a father and son.