Early in the morning Robbie Creer had driven into town for Dr. Clucas, who had ordered rest—absolute rest.
"We must have three full days in bed, Mr. Stowell, Sir. And if it is necessary to postpone the Court of General Gaol Delivery, I think .... I really think we must ask his Excellency to do so."
Stowell drew a deep breath and fell asleep. When he awoke it was mid-day. He was in bed in his father's bedroom and Fenella was sitting by his side, holding his hand. After he had opened his eyes she leaned over him and kissed him, saying in a soft voice that he would soon be better.
"It was that oath-taking, dear. I could see you were taking it too seriously."
His heart was still warm with the embraces of yesterday, yet he tried in vain to kiss her back. But he laughed a little and made light of his seizure. It was nothing, but a little dizziness; he would be about again in a day or two.
"Would you like me to stay and nurse you?"
"No, no! .... I mean you needn't...."
His stammering broke down and his face gloomed, but with a quick smile she said,
"Oh, very well, Sir, if you won't have me, Janet will take care of you, and send me a telegram night and morning to say how you are. Won't you, Janet?"
From some unseen place behind the curtains of the four-poster, Janet, snuffling and blowing her nose, answered that she would.