“He seems to know it himself,” continued the doctor. “At least, we fancy so, I and my brother-practitioner. Though we have been most cautious not to alarm him by any hint of the kind.”
“I should like to see him,” said the parson. “I suppose I can?”
He went in, and was shut up for some time alone with Temple. Yes, he said, when he came out again, Temple knew all about it, and was perfectly resigned and prepared.
You may be sure there was no bed for any of us that night. Temple’s breathing grew worse; and at last we went in by turns, one of us at a time, to prop up the pillows behind, and keep them propped; it seemed to make it firmer and easier for him as he lay against them. Towards morning I was called in to replace Rupert. The shaded candle seemed to be burning dim.
“You can lie down, my dear,” Mrs. Temple whispered to Rupert. “Should there be any change, I will call you.”
He nodded, and left the room. Not to lie down. Only to sit over the kitchen fire with Tod, and so pass away the long hours of discomfort.
“Who is this now?” panted Slingsby, as I took my place.
“It is I. Johnny Ludlow. Do you feel any better?”
He made a little sound of dissent in answer.
“Nay, I think you look easier, my dear,” said Mrs. Temple, gently.