Mr. Verne had awoke to consciousness, and no doubt had listened to the words so lately uttered.
A smile was upon his face as he extended his left hand to Mr.
Lawson, and tried hard to regain his speech.
"Do not exert yourself, sir," said the latter putting his arm around the invalid with the tenderness of a woman. "All you must do is try to get a little stronger before Miss Verne arrives, after that you will be all right. It is enough to make any one sick to be alone in this big house."
Mrs. Montgomery watched the effect of the speech and felt sore at heart. "Poor man," thought she, "he will never live to see it," and as she looked a second time saw that Mr. Verne had suddenly relapsed into that comatose state sadly akin to death.
"Thy will be done," murmured the watcher, and tenderly replacing the coverlid committed the prostrate form to the mercy of an Almighty Father.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
DARK HOURS INDEED.
It is nearly midnight. Mrs. Verne had been prevailed upon (to use her own words) to attend a musical soiree given by a fashionable young matron in honor of her fifth wedding anniversary.
Hubert Tracy now danced attendance upon his mother-in-law, elect and on the present occasion was her beau chevalier.
He had taken leave of Marguerite with much reluctance. Her wearied and sadly pale face upbraided him but he kept stifling his conscience with the thought that she would be happier when the first impressions wore off.