“No, no; you shall tell him yourself,” she exclaimed with sudden vehemence; “you are going to get well, you must, you shall!”
The nurse looked at her warningly, and she was silent again while Lion’s excitement subsided into a drowsy state which lasted till the doctor came.
He looked in amazement at the strange figure by the bed, but for once in her life Mrs. Beresford had no thoughts for herself.
“He is better, is he not?” she said eagerly, but the doctor shook his head.
“No,” he said, “I shall telegraph for your husband to-night.”
The days passed on, and one evening a carriage dashed up to the door and springing out almost before it had stopped, Paul Beresford seized upon the doctor, who came forward to greet him.
“How is he?” he asked.
“Better,” was the answer, and waiting to hear no more he dashed upstairs and opened the door of his boy’s room.
“How are you, my darling?” he said eagerly.
His wife turned away with a sudden pang. It was not likely that he would recognise her for she had sent him no news of her accident, but for the first time she felt that he was dearer to her than the friends for whom she had once sacrificed his happiness.