ANOTHER PATIENT.
It was eleven o'clock when Lord Hartledon entered. Lady Kirton was fanning herself vehemently. Maude had gone upstairs for the night.
"Where have you been?" she asked, laying down her fan. "We waited tea for you until poor Maude got quite exhausted."
"Did you? I am sorry for that. Never wait for me, pray, Lady Kirton. I took tea at the Rectory."
"Took—tea—where?"
"At the Rectory."
With a shriek the countess-dowager darted to the far end of the room, turning up her gown as she went, and muffling it over her head and face, so that only the little eyes, round now with horror, were seen. Lord Hartledon gazed in amazement.
"You have been at the Rectory, when I warned you not to go! You have been inside that house of infection, and come home—here—to me—to my darling Maude! May heaven forgive you, Hartledon!"
"Why, what have I done? What harm will it do?" exclaimed the astonished man. He would have approached her, but she warned him from her piteously with her hands. She was at the upper end of the room, and he near the door, so that she could not leave it without passing him. Hedges came in, and stood staring in the same wondering astonishment as his master.
"For mercy's sake, take off every shred of your clothes!" she cried. "You may have brought home death in them. They shall be thrown into the burning tar. Do you want to kill us? What has Maude done to you that you behave in this way?"