Without a word Herbert dressed himself. He waited till the doctor finished.
“Is there anything the matter with me?” he asked.
Frank looked at him gravely.
“Nothing very serious. I’ll talk to Miss Langton if you’ll get her to come here.”
“I’d sooner hear myself, if you don’t mind,” said Herbert, flushing. “I’m not afraid to be told anything.”
“You need not be very much alarmed, you know,” answered Frank in a moment, with a brief hesitation which did not escape Herbert. “You have râles at the right apex. At first I didn’t hear them.”
“What does that mean?” A cold shiver of dread ran through him so that his hands and feet felt horribly cold; there was a slight tremor in his voice when he asked a further question. “Is it the same as my father and my sister?”
“I’m afraid it is,” said Frank.
And the shadow of Death stood suddenly in the room, patient and sinister; and each knew that henceforward it would never leave the young man’s side; it would sit by him at table silently, and lie in his bed at night; and when he read, a long finger would underline the words to remind him that he was a prisoner condemned. When the wind, marching through the country, sang to himself like a strong-limbed ploughboy, Death, whistling in his ears, would mock the tune softly; when he looked at the rising sun which coloured the mist like a chalcedony, purple and rosy and green, Death would snigger at his delight in the sad world’s beauty. An icy hand gripped his heart so that he felt sick with dread and anguish; he could not repress the sob torn from him by bitter agony. Frank was ashamed to look at that boyish face, so frank and fair, distraught with terror, and he cast down his eyes. Then, to hide himself, Herbert went to the window and looked out: opposite, the houses were gray, ugly, and monotonous, and the heavy sky lowered as though verily it would crush the earth; but he saw life like a pageant processioning before him, and the azure heaven more profound than the rich enamel of an old French jewel, the ploughed fields gaining in the sunshine the various colour of the jasper, and the elm-trees more sombre than jade. He was like a man in a deep chasm who scans at noon the stars which those who live in daylight cannot see.
Frank’s voice came to him like a sound from another world.