"Do you think I could ever be strong and well again if any harm had come to you in that blazing house?"
She was conscious that this was special pleading on her behalf; that it was not sound; but she could not find out the flaw, and for awhile she sat tranquil, holding his hand.
He was silent for a long time, and at last May knew by his breathing that he slept. She sat as the morning wore on, and still he slept. At last she released his hand and went downstairs. It was now nine o'clock, and her aunt was in the little breakfast-parlour.
Miss Traynor had not recovered from the shock of her niece's flight, and, although Anne had told her of Marion's return, she was still too feeble to understand the full import of that event. Indeed she was never very clear as to Marion's flight, and had dim doubts as to whether the whole thing was not a dream. Anne had also told the invalid that Mr. Cheyne had been put to bed in the spare room, and that the doctor had come and said he was very bad.
When May saw her aunt she ran to her, and throwing her arms round the old woman's shoulders, burst into a passionate flood of tears, but said no word; her heart was too full for speech.
"There now, my child! there now, my child! Don't cry. I am very glad you came back. We are all very glad you came back. It was very wrong of you to go out this bitterly cold weather without anything to put round you when you were coming home. I did not mind your going in the least, but you must never again do such a thing without taking a cloak or a shawl with you. Charlie, your Charlie, was very uneasy too at your not having even a silk handkerchief to put about your neck when you came out of the theatre."
May did not say anything, but, sliding down on her knees, buried her head in the old woman's lap, thinking:
"Oh, my aunt, my poor good aunt, has my folly struck you down too!"
At ten o'clock Dr. Fernbeck came. He had had a telegram from Dr. Oliver Rowland, who was already on the way up, as he felt most deeply interested in the case. Then Dr. Fernbeck went up to the sickroom, and upon coming down reported the patient in pretty much the same condition as in the early morning. Yes, Miss Durrant might go up and stop with the patient, but she must not let him talk. No, not even for a minute. It was imperative that he should be kept quiet. Miss Durrant's presence would be more conducive, no doubt, to his quiet than her absence, but there must be no talking. He would come again in the afternoon with Dr. Rowland.
So Marion went up again to the bedroom, and took his hand and held it for his comfort--he was now awake--and wept quietly for her own heart's ease. He wished to speak, but she would not allow him, and told him if he made any new attempt in that direction she would be compelled to leave the room, as her orders allowed of no exception; upon which he smiled and remained silent, with his pale face turned towards her and his weary eyes fixed upon her face.