The men withdrew quietly to the doorway, while she crouched down by the still form and buried her face in her hands. The squire and the doctor exchanged glances. “Get her away!” murmured the latter. But Margery heard him. “No, no!” she protested, rising to her feet. “Let me stay; I will be brave, Cousin Sholto. You will let me stay--you must let me stay! I cannot go!” “Dr. Godfrey will let you remain if you have the strength,” the squire said, soothingly. Then he took her two cold hands in his and drew her to the wide window, while the doctor motioned the men away and closed the door. Margery’s eyes never left the pallid face of her husband. In breathless, sickening anxiety she watched Dr. Godfrey pass his hand over the injured man’s chest and fractured arm, unconscious that the broken respirations that came from her lips told of the agony she was enduring. The doctor looked around as the sound fell on his ears, and in an instant he knew how to act. “Lady Court, I want you to help me,” he said, gravely, advancing to her. “Go at once, and fetch me brandy, some warm water, a sponge and some old linen--as quickly as possible, please.” In a moment she had turned and left the room. The squire glanced at the doctor. “It was to get her away,” explained the medical man. “The case is hopeless; I can do nothing. The ribs are terribly crushed, the lungs and heart vitally injured, and there is a severe fracture of the left shoulder and arm. It is only a question of hours now--perhaps minutes; but it will do her good to give her occupation. That tension of her nerves was killing her, poor young creature!” “I can do no good?” queried the squire, passing a trembling hand across his brow. “No,” answered Dr. Godfrey. “Let me advise you to go to your room. When the change comes you shall know.” The squire went away, feeling now more than ever that he was indeed a weak old man. The doctor was alone and bending over the patient when Margery came back, carrying all that he had asked for. She stood as silent as a statue while he slowly poured a few drops of brandy between the closed lips; then, as a sign of life came once more into the deathlike face, she gave a sob of thankfulness and sunk upon her knees by the couch. The earl’s eyelids were raised with difficulty, and his dark eyes wandered around slowly till they rested on his wife’s face; then the faintest of smiles broke over his countenance, dying away the next instant in a contraction of pain. “Nugent, Nugent--oh, speak to me!” whispered Margery, wildly, putting her trembling lips to his passive hand, all the goodness, the generosity, the tenderness that this man had lavished upon her coming back to her memory and maddening her.