“I like Ferdinand Montella,” she said decidedly, with a secret wonder at her own effusiveness. “He may not be perfect, and I suppose, from what mamma says, he is something of a scapegrace; but he has rather a nice face, I think. If ever he comes back I shall stand up for him.” She was such an impetuous child. CHAPTER VI A HOUSE OF MOURNING Sir Julian was very ill. His physician had to be rung up in the middle of the night, and arrived to find him in an exceedingly critical condition. Raie, tucked up in her little white bed, awoke with a start to hear footsteps in the corridor, and the subdued sound of voices. Hastily attiring herself in her dressing-gown, she unlocked her door and peered out to see what was happening. As she did so, the bald head and gaunt figure of the physician emerged from the morning-room, followed by Lady Montella in deshabille. Raie, not wishing to be noticed, shrank back into her own room; but a few minutes later she put her head out again, and espied a maid. “Maggie!” she called, in a whisper. “Mr. Lionel isn’t ill?” “No, it’s Sir Julian; had another stroke. They think it’s the end. Mr. Lionel has gone for the rabbi.” “Oh!” There was a scared look on her face. She called the girl into her room, and shut the door. “It’s frightfully sudden,” she remarked, sinking on to a little wicker chair. “He was normal when Lady Montella went to bed.” “Yes, miss, it came on all of a sudden like. Those things always do. I remember my grandfather whom we buried a year come Christmas; he had St. Vitus’s dance—the twitchings, you know, and—” “Don’t tell me,” interrupted the girl, with a shudder. “I’ve got the creeps already. Tell me, Maggie, do you think I ought to go into Sir Julian’s room when the minister comes? I don’t want to go, because I feel so horribly nervous, and I’ve never been near anyone who is dying before, but if—if Lady Montella expects it—?” “I should go back to bed if I were you, miss,” the servant advised. “There is no occasion for you to go near a death-bed unless you are obliged. You will not do Sir Julian nor my lady any good by upsetting yourself.” “No, but I don’t want auntie to think me unkind. Will you ask her, please, Maggie? Tell her I send my love, and am very sorry; and if she wants me, I’ll come.” The maid rose with an air of reluctance and took the message. Two minutes later she returned. Her ladyship sent her love, and wished her niece to go to sleep without frightening herself. Everything that was possible was being done for the patient, therefore her presence could not assist.