"What next? Oh, we must let him sleep it off. I don't suppose that he
will be very long before he wakes."
Claude's hands seemed to go naturally together, and she passed one over
the other, while Sarah Woodham stood gazing intently at Gartram, and a
curious shudder ran through her from time to time.
"But, Doctor Asher," said Claude at last, "I do feel so helpless--so
lonely. I--"
"Oh, come, come," cried the doctor encouragingly; "don't look at it so
seriously. It is a heavy sleep, and may last for hours. I'll stop for
a bit, and then come in quite early in the morning. Perhaps it would be
as well for somebody to sit up."
Claude tried to speak, but she could not. She laid her hand upon the
doctor's arm, and stood, with her lip quivering, gazing down at her
father till she could command her voice, and then she whispered
huskily,--
"Don't go."
She could say no more, but stood looking appealingly in his eyes.
"You mean stay till he wakes?"
She nodded quickly.
"Oh, certainly, if you wish it; but I ought to tell you that I hardly
think it necessary."
"I do wish it," said Claude. "Do not you. Mary?"
"Yes."
"By all means."
"I will sit with you. Mary, too, will keep us company."
"No, no," said the doctor in a whisper, "there is no need for that. If
I stay, it is with the understanding that you both go to bed."
Sarah Woodham was standing back in the shadow, but she appeared to be
listening eagerly to every word.
"But we should make it less dull for you," pleaded Claude.
"I am never dull when I sit up with a sick person," said the doctor
didactically. "These are my hours for study of my patient. No, no; if
I am to stay it is as the doctor--the master of the situation. You will
go to bed."
"But you will want refreshments--somebody within call."
"To be sure, and there will be our old friend Mrs Woodham. You will
sit up?"
"Yes, sir, of course," said the woman eagerly.
"That's right. Now, then, ladies, if you please, we must have utter
silence till Mr Gartram wakes."
Claude sighed, but she bowed her head, and turned to leave the room with
Mary; but as she reached the door, she hurried back to where her father
was seated, and bent over him to kiss his forehead.
"Must I go, doctor?" she whispered.
"Certainly," he said quietly.
"But if he seems worse, you would have me called?"
"Directly."
The two girls left the room, Claude beckoning to Sarah Woodham, who
followed them out.
"You will make coffee for Doctor Asher."
"Yes, ma'am, of course."
"Go back and ask him when he would like it brought to him; and, Sarah,
you will come and tell me how papa is. I shall not undress--only lie
down."
"You may depend on me, Miss Claude."
"But you--is anything the matter? You look so ill."
"I was a bit startled at master's way of breathing, my dear. I thought
he was going to be much worse."
Claude went back into the drawing-room with Mary Dillon, neither of them
noticing how wild and excited the servant grew, and a few minutes after
they went slowly upstairs to Claude's room.
Sarah Woodham softly retraced her steps to the study, tapped gently, and
the door was opened by the doctor, who stood in the opening, book in
hand.
"When will I have coffee? Oh, about four o'clock. I have only just had
tea. Go and lie down somewhere within call--where I can find you."
"I am not sleepy, sir."
"No; but you may be by-and-by. Go and lie down on the sofa in the
dining-room, I can easily find you there. Why, my good woman, you look
ghastly."
Sarah Woodham shrank away.
"Don't disturb me till I ring. No: I'll come for you. Sleep is the
best thing for him."
"Sleep is the best thing for him," said Sarah Woodham in a hoarse
whisper, as she went slowly back into the hall, and then into the
servants' quarters, from whence, after a few minutes, she returned to go
about in a silent way like a dark shadow, closing and fastening doors,
before listening for awhile on the study mat, and then going into the
dining-room, where she seated herself on one of the chairs, resting her
chin upon her hands, and gazing straight before her in the darkness.
Then for a time all was still, save a low sigh, almost like a moan,
which came from the suffering woman's breast, followed by a shiver and a
start, for it was as if the hand of the dead had just been laid upon her
shoulder.
Volume Two, Chapter XI.