She spoke very gently, almost apologetically. But to Mr. Guildford it sounded like a reproach.
“I should not have given you the trouble of explaining anything,” he said quickly. “But will you not do as I proposed? Will you not take a little rest for an hour or two? I shall stay till the morning. I arranged to do so before I left home.”
Just then Mrs. Moore, who had left the room before they entered it, came back again. She heard what Mr. Guildford was urging upon Cicely.
“Oh! do, Miss Cicely,” she said earnestly. “You will be quite knocked up soon, and what would Master Charlie do then?”
“If he wakes and I am not beside him, he will be so frightened,” said the girl.
“I promise to send for you the moment he wakes—or—or in case of any change.” said Mr. Guildford.
So at last she gave in. Could Mr. Guildford have realised the agony her submission was costing her, he would hardly have had the heart to enforce it, though his motives were of the best. But how was he, a perfect stranger, seeing her for the first time, to pierce below the quiet exterior that puzzled many who had known her for years? She stooped and kissed the little pale drawn face, and repeating,
“You will promise to call me?” went softly out of the room.
Mr. Guildford had no intention of deceiving her. His fears were great, but so far, he perceived a chance—a faint chance of their not being realised, and he had no belief in the wisdom of preparing oneself or others for the worst by crushing prematurely the last little blossom of hope which may serve its purpose by cheering hours of otherwise unendurable anguish. But as the night went on, his own hopes faded slowly. He did the little that was possible to alleviate the suffering, more painful, it is to be trusted, at this last sad stage, to witness than to endure; but long before the morning dawned, it became evident that the little life was ebbing away. There was no fear of Charlie waking to miss his young aunt; the short journey through the dark valley was all but over; Charlie’s waking would be in the bright country “beyond the sun.”
“I think you had better call Miss Methvyn. I promised to send for her if there was any change,” said Mr. Guildford to the housekeeper, who had remained with him. There was no need to tell her what the only change would be now. But almost before he had finished speaking the door opened swiftly, and Cicely, still in her beautiful dress, stood again by the bed side.