“What are you doing here?” said she, calmly and slowly, as she came forward. “I wanted to see this. I was curious to know how he treated us,” said he, trembling as he spoke. She took the paper from his hand, replaced it in the desk, and locked it up, with the calm determination of one who could not be gainsaid. “But I have not read it,” whispered he, in a hissing voice. “Nor need you,” said she, placing the keys under the old man's pillow. “I heard you coming here,--I heard you enter the room. I am thankful it is no worse.” “What do you mean by no worse?” cried he, seizing her by the wrist, and staring savagely at her,--“say what you mean, woman!” She made no reply; but the scornful curl of her lip, and the steady unflinching stare of her eyes showed that neither his words nor his gesture had terrified her. “You shall hear more of this to-morrow,” said he, bending on her a look of intense hate; and he stole slowly away, while she seated herself at the bedside, and hid her face in the curtain. CHAPTER XVII. AN UNGRACIOUS ADIEU When Dr. Beattie came at seven o'clock in the morning, he found his patient better. The nurse gave her account, as nurses know well how to do, of a most favorable night,--told how calmly he slept, how sensibly he talked, and with what enjoyment he ate the jelly which he had never tasted. At all events, he was better; not stronger, perhaps,--there was no time for that,--but calmer and more composed. “You must not talk, nor be talked to yet awhile,” said Beattie; “and I will station Haire here as a sentinel to enforce my orders.” “Yes, I would like Haire,” whispered the old man, softly. “Let him come and sit by me.” “Can I see Mrs. Sewell? or is it too early to ask for her?” inquired the doctor of a maid. “She has been up all night, sir, and only just lain down.” “Don't disturb her, then. I will write a line to her, and you can give it when she awakes.” He went into the library, and wrote: “Sir William is better, but not out of danger. It is even more important now than before that he have perfect quiet. I will change the nurse, and meanwhile I desire that you alone should enter the room till I return.” “What letter was that the doctor gave you as he went away?” said Sewell, who during Beattie's visit had been secretly on the watch over all that occurred. “For my mistress, sir,” said the girl, showing the note. Sewell snatched it impatiently, threw his eyes over it, and gave it back. “Tell your mistress I want to see her when she is dressed. It's nothing to hurry for, but to come down to my room at her own convenience.” “Better, but not out of danger! I should think not,” muttered he, as he strolled out into the garden.