"The deed is done. There's nae good in respecting and regretting now. Come here and help us to do what we can, till the doctor comes." "I will not. It is her fault. She would make an angel sin. I am innocent, perfectly innocent. My God, what a tribulation the creature is!" "I wouldna name God, if I was you," said McNab scornfully. "Maybe He'll forget you, if you dinna remind Him o' your sinfu' self." "McNab, I give you notice to leave my house at once." "That is more like you, Mistress Campbell, but I'm not going out o' this house till the master says so. I am his hired woman, not yours, thank God! and I am not feared to speak the Holy Name, as you may well be. Here's the doctor--thank God again for that mercy! You had better leave the room, or you'll be getting the words you're well deserving, mistress." "I shall stay just where I am." "You're a dour woman; you are that." Dr. Fleming entered as the last words were spoken. He brought with him an atmosphere of help and strength, and barely glancing at Mrs. Campbell he knelt down beside the sick woman. In a few moments he rose, and calling Jepson, ordered him to "go to No. 400 Renfrew Street, and bring back with him Jean Malcolm." "I cannot spare Jepson, doctor," said Mrs. Campbell. "It is nearly time to serve dinner." "Do as I tell you, man, and be off at once. Don't waste a moment. Take a cab." "Doctor----" "Mrs. Campbell, this is a serious case. We have no time to think of dinners. I fear there is a slight concussion of the brain." Then turning to McNab, he said: "There must be a mattress brought down here, and I shall want two men to carry the patient upstairs. Have you men in the house?" "No, sir, none worth the name o' men. I'll step over to the hotel and get a couple o' their porters." "That will do." "Doctor, if there are any extraordinary arrangements to make, I am Mrs. Traquair Campbell." "I know you, Mrs. Campbell. I have a very true knowledge of you." "Then, sir, give your orders to me. What do you wish?" "I wish you to leave the room. If your dinner is ready, you had better eat it. I may want your man for some time." "Sir, you are rude. Will you remember this is my house?" "It is not your house. It is your son's house, and this lady, I take it, is his wife. So then, it is her house." "Yes, she is my son's wife, more's the pity, more's the shame, more's the sorrow----" "My God, woman! Have you no heart, no pity, no sense of duty to a sick woman?" As he spoke he rose, and with an angry face and long strides walked to the door and threw it wide open, uttering only one fierce word: "_Go!_" A better and a more powerful spirit than her own gave this order, and she perforce obeyed it; but when she reached the dining-room, she threw herself on the sofa in a frantic passion. "I have been insulted," she cried. "I have been insulted shamefully. Oh, Isabel! that woman will be the death of me!"