"Once more," said Shock, in a broken voice, "I promise you, Mr. Mowbray. I will do my best to carry out what you desire, and so may God help me!"
The old man sank quietly back on his couch. A smile spread over his face as he lay with closed eyes, and he breathed, "Thank God! I can trust you as if you were my son."
"Hark!" he said a moment afterwards in an anxious whisper. "There is someone near the tent." The doctor hurried out, and found Crawley in the neighbourhood of the tent gathering some sticks for the fire. He hastened back.
"It is only Mr. Crawley," he said, "getting some wood for the fire."
A spasm of fear distorted the old man's face.
"Crawley!" he whispered, "I fear him. Don't let him see—or know. Now take these things—away. I have done with them—I have done with them! You will give my love—to my daughter," he said to Shock after some moments of silence.
"She is here," said Shock quietly.
"Here! Now! I feared to ask. God is good. Yes, God is good."
The doctor stepped out of the tent. The old man lay with eager eyes watching the door.
Swiftly, but with a step composed and steady, his daughter came to him.