The doctor eyed Dexie sternly.
"Speak to him," he said, sharply.
"I am here, Mr. McNeil. I have come back safe and well. Try to sleep."
Her voice seemed to pierce the troubled brain, and his face lost much of
its troubled look.
"Sing something, Dexie," said Mrs. Gurney, "and perhaps he will sleep. He
has not been quiet since they brought him home," and, bending down, said
softly, "Try, Dexie. I know it is hard for you, but if he will sleep it
will be almost the saving of him. You will do this for me, I know."
"Nearer, my God, to Thee; nearer to Thee."
It was almost a whisper, but it soon had a visible effect on Hugh, and in
half an hour the doctor's curt words, "You may go now," were more welcome
than the sweetest praise.
As the fever ran its course, Dexie was frequently called to Hugh's
bedside. How she dreaded those visits, yet stern duty forbade her to
refuse, as her heart often prompted.
Dexie soon saw that she was not in the doctor's good graces, for as Hugh
revealed the past, in broken and disjointed sentences, it gave him the
impression that she had been trifling with Hugh's affections, and she
resented the tone he assumed when speaking to her.
Pages:
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408