“I say, Charrington, I've got it! Take my aunt with you.”
Jack gasped. “By Jove! The very thing! It's rough on her, but she's the saintly kind that delights to bear other people's burdens.”
And so it was arranged that Jack and Lady Ruthven should meet the boat and bring Barney, with all speed, to Ruthven Hall.
At the Silurian's gangway Jack received his friend with outstretched hands, crying, “Barney, old boy, we're glad to see you! Here, let me present you to Lady Ruthven, at whose house Iola is staying.” With feverish haste he hurried Barney through the crowds, bustling hither and thither about his luggage and giving himself not a moment for conversation till they were seated in the first-class apartment carriage that was to carry them to Craigraven. But they had hardly got settled in their places when the conversation, in spite of all Jack's efforts, dropped to silence.
“You have bad news for me,” said Barney, looking Lady Ruthven steadily in the face. “Has anything happened?”
“No, Dr. Boyle,” replied Lady Ruthven, a little more quickly than was her wont, “but—” and here she paused, shrinking from delivering the mortal stab, “but we are anxious about our dear Iola.”
“Tell me the worst, Lady Ruthven,” said Barney.
“That is all. We are very anxious. It is her lungs chiefly and her heart. But she is very bright and very hopeful. It is better she should be kept so.”
Barney listened with face growing grey, his eyes looking out of their deep sockets with the piteous, mute appeal of an animal stricken to death. He moistened his lips and tried to speak, but, failing, kept his eyes fixed on Lady Ruthven's face as if seeking relief. Charrington turned his head away.
“We feel thankful for her great courage,” said Lady Ruthven, in her sweet, calm voice, “and for her peace of mind.”