When the doctor's voice ceased, there was a strange, tense silence in the room for many minutes; and Christina, standing by the fireplace, felt as if she could almost see and hear the woman in the bed, gathering up her forces to meet this blow. Once the girl glanced at the white face and deep eyes, but she turned away her glance again, feeling it was not right that any other human being should gaze upon the tortured soul, that looked out of those eyes. Margaret herself first broke the silence. "Will--it--be--long?" she asked. "I think not," Fergusson answered gravely, "but in a case like this everything depends upon the temperament of the patient, his surroundings, his mental attitude. Anxiety, worry, any mental strain would accelerate matters." The white hands that all this time had been so still on the coverlet, clasped themselves together, and there was a new note of passion in Margaret's voice, as she said-- "And--the mental strain is exactly what I cannot help, cannot prevent, cannot save him from." "You must remember I am only giving you one man's opinion--only my own," Fergusson replied gently. "Would you like me to bring a London colleague to----" "No--oh no!"--the look of fear he had before noticed in her eyes, leapt into them once more--"nobody else must come here, nobody else must see him. As it is, the risks"--she stopped suddenly, and ended her sentence in less agitated tones--"I am quite satisfied with your opinion, Dr. Fergusson," she said. "I would rather not have another doctor, and--you will respect my wish for silence about everything that has passed in this house?" "Certainly I will respect it; you can trust me. In the patient's own interest, I think I ought to see him again, perhaps in two or three days; but nobody excepting Miss Moore and myself will know anything about the affairs of your house." Having given her a few technical instructions as to the treatment of the sick man, the doctor was ready to take his departure, and he and Christina left the house together, after the girl had for a moment been drawn into Margaret's arms, and gently kissed. "Thank you for all you have done," the beautiful woman whispered. "I don't think I can ever be grateful enough to you. Perhaps, we shall not ever meet again--but--think sometimes of me--pray sometimes for me--little rest-bringer." * * * * * "That poor soul! that poor soul!" They were Fergusson's first words after he had turned the car out of the rough lane, into the main road. "I daresay it was fanciful, but the words in the Litany haunted me when I watched her this morning: 'In all time of our tribulation--Good Lord, deliver us.' She looks as if she had been through such an infinity of tribulation." Christina's eyes were still dim with the tears brought there by Margaret's parting words, and her voice was not quite steady, as she answered--