"With Marryott, talking to her. Panton has just come."
"Well, well—how is he?—worse?"
"Why, yes—I cannot say there is much improvement; but here's Marryott," as the door again opened; "she can tell you more about him and Panton's opinion."
Marryott entered, and stationed herself beside Mr. Trevor's chair, keeping her eyes fixed upon Eugene, as he sat leaning his elbows on his knees, and looking nervously down upon the ground.
"Well, well, Marryott, is he very bad? What does Panton think of him now?"
"He thinks very badly of him, indeed, Mr. Trevor," was her answer, in a solemn, mysterious voice.
"Really, really; Does he think that he will die?"
The woman cleared her throat.
"No, not quite that, though some might think it even worse."
She paused, and tried to catch Eugene's pertinaciously averted eye.