"It is a good idea," he said, eagerly; "and I will go with you." And Althea made no objection to this.
"It is a pity the carriage is out," she said, regretfully; "but George shall get us a cab. Now we will go and have some luncheon, and then I will get ready." But with both of them the meal was a pretence. Apprehension and worry deprived Moritz of all appetite, and Althea was so nervous and fluttered at the idea of encountering Everard in his own home, that she could scarcely eat a morsel.
She rose as soon as possible, and left Moritz to finish his repast; but he preferred pacing the room. In spite of his vivacity and gaieté-de-c[oe]ur, his jaunty airs and cheerfulness, he was easily depressed. Any form of illness that attacked those he loved, preyed on his mind. When Gwendoline's little son was born, he was so anxious and despondent that Jack Compton, in spite of his own natural solicitude for his young wife's safety, laughed at him and told him "that he looked as melancholy as a gib cat." "The old chap was in the doldrums and no mistake," he said to Gwen afterwards. "I tell him I played the man twice as well as he. But he is a good old sort, too." And then, with awe and wonder, the young father regarded the small and crumpled and exceedingly red morsel of humanity, lying snugly within Gwen's arm.
As they drove up to Cleveland Terrace they saw an unmistakable doctor's brougham before the door of Number Ten. Lord Ralston's swarthy complexion turned rather livid at the sight, but Althea only remarked, with composure, that they had come just at the right time.
Noel opened the door to them; he had seen them from the window; his face brightened perceptibly. "Father has gone up with Dr. Duncan," he said; "but they will be coming down directly; you had better come up into the studio. There is a fire there." And Noel led the way. Althea glanced quickly round the room as she entered. It was shabby, there could be no doubt of that, but there was an air of comfort about it. And then she subsided wearily into a corner of the big, cosy-looking couch; but Moritz marched off to the inner room and stood with his back to them, gazing at poor Mollie's little writing-table with an aching heart.
"Noel, what is the matter with your sister?" asked Althea, in a low voice; but Noel could not tell her. She had seemed queer and feverish the previous day, he explained, and his father had advised her remaining in bed. She had had a bad night, and her throat was painful, and he had been forbidden to go near her. This was Dr. Duncan's first visit. They had sent for him in the morning, but he had been unable to come until now.
It was evident that Noel could not enlighten them much, so Althea forebore to question him further, and waited silently until they heard footsteps descending the stairs; but as they passed by the studio door Althea heard the doctor say,—
"I will look in later and see what you have done about the nurse."
Noel heard it, too, for he looked rather startled.
"A nurse!" he muttered. "Poor old pater, that will bother him a bit." And then Everard came quickly into the room.