On the afternoon of the morrow, Philip Hume, who, summoned by a telegram from Dr. Spink, had come down to Denborough by the first train he could catch, put on his hat, and, lighting his pipe, took a turn up and down the road that ran by Littlehill. Since his coming he had been in the house, and the house had seemed almost to stifle him. He had a man's feeling of uselessness in the face of a sick room; he could do nothing to help Nellie Fane in her struggle for life; he only hindered the people who could do something. Nor did he succeed much better with those whose ailments were of the mind. Arthur Angell sat in one room, suspecting now that, whether Nellie lived or died, his dearest hopes were dead. Dale, in another room, strode unrestingly to and fro, waiting for Wilson to come back from the messages he kept sending him on, now upstairs to Nellie's door, now down the town to Ethel Roberts', now, and most often, to the Grange; and always Wilson, his forehead wet and his legs weary, came back and said: "Please, sir, there is no change." Once Nellie had been conscious, had asked "Is he safe?" and, receiving her answer, had closed her eyes again. Ethel Roberts was in no danger; the shock would pass. Of Janet there came no news, save that she was alone with her mother, and cried to be alone even from her mother. James Roberts, in his frenzy, had indeed wrought havoc, and Philip, as he walked and smoked, vehemently, though silently, cursed the ways of this world. Presently Mrs. Hodge came out in her bonnet. "Nellie is well looked after," she said. "I am going down to see how that poor little Roberts is." Philip did not offer to go with the good woman. He watched her heavy figure hastening down the hill, wondering that she seemed almost happy in her busy services of kindness. He could do nothing but fret, and smoke, and try to keep out of the way. A smart brougham drove up. It stopped by him, and Tora Smith jumped out. "How is she?" she cried. "Spink thinks she will pull through," answered Philip; "but of course she's in great danger still." "May I go to her?" asked Tora. "She sees no one," he replied in surprise. "Oh, I don't mean to see her. I mean to stay and help--to nurse her, you know." "It is very kind of you: she has her mother and a nurse." "Oh, won't you let me?" "It does not rest with me. But why should you?" "I--I once thought such horrid things of her. And--wasn't it splendid?" Philip looked kindly at her. "That will please her," he said, "and her friends." "Mayn't I help?" "I tell you what: poor Mrs. Roberts has no one but a hired nurse. Mrs. Hodge has run down for a minute, but of course she can't leave her daughter long." "You mean I ought to go to her?" "One can't even be kind in the way one likes best," said Philip. "Well, I will. But I should have loved to be with Miss Fane. I can't tell you how I feel about her. I think people who think evil things of other people ought to be _beaten_, Mr. Hume."