The boys in Mr. Brandiston’s house were touched with the sympathy of a new undreamt-of sorrow. Their footsteps were hushed as they moved about the house, their voices stilled; though he, their schoolfellow, was far removed, and no sound of theirs would reach his ear, they felt instinctively that haste, noise, thoughtlessness, impatience would be ill-timed. It was observed that no one used an oath in the house during those days. Even the selfish and giddy seemed subdued. With full hearts they asked each day in the morning if the worst were past, and at night their loving solicitude shaped itself in such a prayer as this: ‘O Lord God, who art all-merciful, suffer him to live.’ But no boy prayed, or could have prayed, for him like Gerald Eversley. The tragic nature of the situation was made more acute because Lady Venniker, whose health had become even more delicate than before, was peremptorily forbidden by her medical advisers to undertake the journey to St. Anselm’s. Harry longed for her presence with passionate intensity. More than once in his moments of delirium he was overheard to be murmuring ‘Mother.’ But she could not come to him. It was a bitter pang to her. It needed all Lord Venniker’s influence, as well as the authority of her medical advisers, to keep her at Helmsbury. After all, it may be doubted whether the anguish of being kept away from Harry’s bedside did not endanger her life as much as any railway journey. But medical men are wise--and sometimes heartless.