One warm sunshiny afternoon, Mildred, who was sensible of unusual languor and oppression, had just stolen to the window to refresh her eyes with the soft green of the fellsides, when Dr. Heriot, who had been standing thoughtfully by the bedside, suddenly roused himself and followed her.
'Miss Lambert, do you know I am going to assert my authority?'
Mildred looked up inquiringly, but there was no answering smile on her pale face.
'I am going to forbid you this room for the next two hours. Indeed,' as Mildred shook her head incredulously, 'I am serious in what I say; you have just reached the limit of endurance, and an attack of faintness may possibly be the result, if you do not follow my advice. An hour's fresh air will send you back fit for your work.'
'But Olive! indeed I cannot leave Olive, Dr. Heriot.'
'Not in my care?' very quietly. 'Of course I shall remain here until you return.'
'You are very kind; but indeed—no—I cannot go; please do not ask me, Dr. Heriot;' and Mildred turned very pale.
'I do not ask, I insist on it,' in a voice Mildred never heard before from Dr. Heriot. 'Can you not trust me?' he continued, relapsing into his ordinary gentle tone. 'Believe me, I would not banish you but for your own good. You know'—he hesitated; but the calm, quiet face seemed to reassure him—'things can only go on like this for a few hours, and we may have a very trying night before us. You will want all your strength for the next day or two.'
'You apprehend a change for the worse?' asked Mildred, drawing her breath more quickly, but speaking in a tone as low as his, for Richard was watching them anxiously from the other end of the room.
'I do not deny we have reason to fear it,' he returned, evasively; 'but there will be no change of any kind for some hours.'