But at that moment, as Glyddyr was about to make a protest, a quiet-looking, gentlemanly man appeared at the door turning down his cuffs, the perspiration glistening upon his high white forehead as he came out into the sun. "No, no, my dear child," he said in a whisper, as a low moaning came from within and seemed to be followed by the low soft washing of the waves below. "You can do no good." "Is--is he very bad, Doctor Asher?" asked Claude. He looked at her for an instant or two without replying, and then bent his head. "Oh!" ejaculated Claude, with a low cry of pain. "Terribly crushed, my dear; better leave them together alone." "But--you do not think--oh, Doctor Asher, you can save him?" "Is it so bad as that, sir?" whispered Glyddyr, as he saw the peculiar look in the doctor's face. "Couldn't you--with more help--shall I send?" "My dear sir," said the doctor in a low voice, "half a dozen of the crack London surgeons couldn't save him." "Oh!" sighed Claude again. "But a clergyman. Mr Glyddyr, would you go into Danmouth?" "Better not, my dear child," said the doctor quietly. "You know their peculiar tenets. His wife was praying with him when I came out." As if to endorse the doctor's words, the low, constant murmur of a voice was heard from within, and from time to time a gasping utterance was heard, and then twice over the word "Amen." Just then Claude stepped softly toward the open doorway, and sank upon her knees with her hands clasped, and her face turned up appealingly toward the sunny sky, while all around seemed full of life, and hope, though the black shadow of death was closing in upon the humble roof. And as Glyddyr saw the sweet, pure, upturned face, with its closed eyes, he involuntarily took off his hat, and gazed wistfully, with something very near akin to love seeming to swell within his breast. The silence was very deep, though the murmur from the cottage continued, till, in the midst of what seemed to be a painful pause, a loud and bitter wail came upon the stillness, and the doctor hurriedly stepped within. "Poor Ike's cottage is to let, mates," said a rough, low voice; "who wants to make a change?" "Dead?" asked Claude, with a motion of her lips, as after a short space the doctor returned. "No; the draught I have given him to dull the pain has had effect: he is asleep." "And when he awakes, Doctor Asher?" whispered Claude, as she clung to his arm. The doctor shook his head. "Can you do nothing?" "Only try to lull the pain," was the reply. And then quickly, "Wanted somewhere else?" This last was to himself as a man was seen running toward them, and Claude turned if possible paler as she recognised one of the servants from the Fort. He ran up breathlessly. "Miss Claude--Doctor Asher," he panted. "Come at once. Master's got another of his fits." Volume One, Chapter V. THE DOCTOR IS KING.