Mrs. Blake was waiting impatiently.
"What is to be done? Can Mr. Bowen go immediately?" I asked.
"To-morrow, if he is ready. I have already written to the doctor who will take charge of his case. He is famous for diseases of the eye, especially cataract, which is the trouble here."
"He will need some one to accompany him?" I asked anxiously. "This seemed the chief difficulty now."
"Not necessarily. The conductor is a kind-hearted fellow, and would see to him. But a friend of mine is going to-morrow, and he will not leave him until he sees him safe in the hospital."
"Could he be ready so soon?" I turned with my question to Mrs. Blake.
"I've got everything ready only just to pack in a valise—fine shirts and all, we've sat up till after midnight making fine shirts and things, me and two other women."
"And you dare to say after that that it is I who must have the credit of this?" I turned a look of reproach on the doctor, as I spoke the words so low, only he could hear them.
"Am I really going to-morrow?"—Mr. Bowen asked, his face turning deathly pale,—"possibly to come back to see all your faces? Miss Selwyn, I hope you will look to me as I have always pictured you."
"I think she will not disappoint your expectations," the doctor said, gallantly.