Charlotte Benson wrung her hands and listened. The groans continued for
a long while: the misery of hearing them! After a while they ceased:
then Richard opened the door, hastily, it seemed, and called "Sophie."
Sophie ran forward, and the door closed again. There was a long silence,
time enough for those who were outside to imagine all manner of horrid
possibilities. Then the Doctor and Richard came out.
"How is he, Doctor?" said Charlotte Benson, bravely, going to meet them,
while I hung trembling over the landing-place.
"Oh better, better, very comfortable," said the Doctor, in his calm
professional tone.
I could not help thinking those groans had not denoted a very high state
of comfort; but maybe the Doctor knew best how people with dislocated
shoulders and broken ribs are apt to express their sentiments of
satisfaction.
I listened with more than interest to their plans for the night: the
Doctor was going away at once; two of the servants and Patrick were to
relieve each other in sitting by him, while Richard was to throw himself
on the sofa in the hall, to be at hand if anything were needed.
"Which means, that you are to be awake all night," said Charlotte
Benson. "You have more need of rest than we. Let Sophie and me take
your place."
Richard looked gratefully and kindly at her, but refused. The Doctor
assured them again that there was no reason for anxiety; that Richard
would probably be undisturbed all night; that he himself would come
early in the morning. Then Richard came toward the stairs, and I escaped
to my own room.
CHAPTER XII.
PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS.
The fiend whose lantern lights the mead,
Were better mate than I!
_Scott_.
Fools, when they cannot see their way,
At once grow desperate,
Have no resource--have nothing to propose--
But fix a dull eye of dismay
Upon the final close.
Success to the stout heart, say I,
That sees its fate, and can defy!
_Faust_.
Two weeks later, and things had not stood still; they rarely do, when
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