"I am sorry to have to wake her," Fergusson answered, "but I am afraid there is no help for it, if she wishes to speak to me. I can't wait till she wakes naturally; I have a very busy day before me, besides which I ought to take you back to the small girl." Whilst he spoke he was walking up the flagged path to the house by Christina's side, glancing with pardonable curiosity at the white building, against its background of dark woods. "Curious," he said reflectively. "I do not want to be unduly prying, but it is impossible to help wondering what that exceptionally beautiful woman is doing in this remote place, with apparently only an old servant and a homicidal maniac for company." Christina's eyes met his, and she flushed. In the face of the promise of secrecy she had given to the lady of the house, she could not mention to Fergusson the existence of the sick man, whose presence she shrewdly suspected was in some way the reason for the beautiful lady's residence in this desolate corner of the world; and, in answer to his words, she only said quietly: "I think there must be some very good reason why she does not wish people to know she is here; but of course I don't know what the reason is," and, saying this, she entered the hall door, and preceded the doctor to the room where her charge of the night still lay sleeping, a little smile on her beautiful face. Elizabeth stood beside her, and Christina saw that the good woman's eyes were full of tears. "It does me good to see her sleeping like that," she whispered to the two who stood just within the doorway; "it's seldom she gets such restful sleep." "You are sure she really wants to speak to me?" Fergusson asked the girl, speaking in low tones. "I cannot bear to disturb her, and yet I must do it if she really wants me. I have one or two urgent cases that should be seen early, and I cannot stay here." "I am afraid we must disturb her," Christina whispered back. "Before she went to sleep, she told me I was on no account to let you go without speaking to her. I am sure she has something important she wishes to say." "Then I'll be going to make some tea for you all," Elizabeth said gently; "you haven't slept much yourself, miss, I can see," she added, looking kindly into Christina's face, which bore traces of her wakeful vigil. "I have lighted the kitchen fire," the girl said gaily, ignoring the remarks about her own night, "and I think tea will be just the loveliest thing in the world," and as Elizabeth went downstairs, she crept softly to the bedside, and laid her hand upon the white hand on the coverlet, the hand whose only ornament was its thick wedding ring. "Dr. Fergusson has come back," she said very gently, when at her touch the dark eyes opened. "I am so sorry to wake you, but you wanted to speak to him." In that moment of waking, the smile that had lain on the sleeping face faded from it, and a long sigh escaped her.