"No, no; his daughter is with him. By George! Mr Vine, if I had been a married man instead of a surly old soured bachelor, I should be so proud and jealous of such a girl as Miss Van Heldre that I should have been ready to poison the first young fellow who dared to think about her." "We are all very proud of Madelaine," said Vine slowly. "I love her as if she were my own child." "Humph! your sister is not," said the doctor dryly. "No, my sister is not," said the old man slowly. "Then, now, Mr Vine, if you please, I am going to ask you people to go." "Go?" said Vine, in angry remonstrance. "Yes; you can do nothing. No change is likely to take place perhaps for days, and with Miss Van Heldre for nurse and Crampton to act as my help if necessary, there will be plenty of assistance here. What I want most is quiet." "Harry, take Louise home," said the old man quickly. "And you will go with them, sir." "No," said Vine quietly. "If I lay in my room stricken down, John Van Heldre would not leave me, Knatchbull, and I am not going to leave him. Good-night, my children. Go at once." "But Madelaine, father." "I shall tell her when she comes down that you were driven away, but I shall send for you to relieve her as soon as I may." Louise stifled a sob, and the old doctor took and patted her hand. "You shall be sent for, my dear, as soon as you can be of use. You are helping me in going. There, good-night." A minute later, hanging heavily on her brother's arm, Louise Vine was walking slowly homeward through the silent night. Her heart was too full for words, and Harry uttered a low hoarse sigh from time to time, his lips never once parting to speak till they reached the house. To the surprise of both, on entering they were confronted by Aunt Marguerite. "What does all this mean?" she said angrily. "Why did every one go out without telling me a word?" Louise gently explained to her what had befallen her father's friend. "Oh," said Aunt Marguerite, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "Well, it might have been worse. There, I am very tired. Take me up, child, to bed." "Good-night, Harry; you will go and lie down," whispered Louise. "Good-night, dear." She clung to him as if the trouble had drawn them closer, and then went into the hall to light a candle. "Good-night, Henri," said Aunt Marguerite, holding her cheek for the young man's mechanical kiss. "This is very sad, of course, but it seems to me like emancipation for you. If it is, I shall not look upon it as a calamity, but as a blessing for us all. Good-night." The door closed upon her, and Harry Vine sat alone in the dining-room with his hands clasped before him, gazing straight away into his future, and trying to see the road. "If I had but thrown myself upon his mercy," he groaned; but he knew that it was impossible all through his regret.