It was nearly half-past seven before Edwin left the house. In the
meantime he had seen Charlie briefly twice, and Janet once, but he had
not revisited the sick-room nor seen Hilda again. The boy's condition
was scarcely altered; if there was any change, it was for the better.
Dawn had broken. The fog was gone, but a faint mist hung in the trees
over the damp lawn. The air was piercingly chill. Yawning and glancing
idly about him, he perceived a curious object on the dividing wall. It
was the candlestick which he had left there on the previous night. The
candle was entirely consumed. "I may as well get over the wall," he
said to himself, and he scrambled up it with adventurous cheerfulness,
and took the candlestick with him; it was covered with drops of
moisture. He deposited it in the kitchen, where the servant was
cleaning the range. On the oak chest in the hall lay the "Manchester
Guardian," freshly arrived. He opened it with another heavy yawn. At
the head of one column he read, "Death of the Duke of Clarence," and at
the head of another, "Death of Cardinal Manning." The double news
shocked him strangely. He thought of what those days had been to others
beside himself. And he thought: "Supposing after all the kid doesn't
come through?"