“You will see,” he had said, with rough kindliness “there are twa bodies tha´ll no die lichtly--he that´s gain to be married and he that´s gain to be hangit; and when this braw callant hath had both prospects before him he´ll no leave us this gait. He should have been a corp three days syne by every rule of the faculty, but yon bit thing never touched his vitals after all. You´ll no greet your bonnie een out, Miss Carew, but just tak your rest and leave him to Providence and me.” For Saunderson had come to the conclusion that the Vicomte was Dorothy´s lover, and that in some way or other, that was the cause of the quarrel in which he had been wounded. He had at first believed that Gervase had been the assailant, but Dorothy had undeceived him on that head; but on the other she had remained entirely silent and made no effort to remove his misunderstanding. She had, however, seen, or thought she had seen, through the friendly deception of the surgeon, and when she had been closed out of the sick room she had believed the end was approaching. She had not understood, though she had guessed, the nature of the tragedy that had been enacted between her brother and her cousin; and though she was not aware of all the circumstances she had come to think she owed the Vicomte a great debt. She had remembered every word of their brief conversation an hour or two before the brawl, and knowing his high sense of honour, she had laid the blame entirely on her brother. All that was passing without seemed like a dream now--only the death chamber was real to her and this tragedy with its deep and indelible stain of guilt. She had felt that she was grieved for the wretches who had been driven to starve under the walls, and she felt rejoiced when she heard that De Rosen had relented, but she felt also that she had not realized the news. It seemed wholly remote. This domestic tragedy, so near and so terrible, entirely filled her mind with its abiding horror. She felt there was no sacrifice she would not willingly make to avert this calamity, and each day she waited with a suspense that was intolerable for the coming of the surgeon from the sick room. Even Jasper´s treachery had passed into the background in the presence of this new and more appalling crime. Gervase Orme had called every day but she had refused to see him, for though she yearned for sympathy in her distress her pride compelled her to nurse her sorrow in secret. Jasper came and went with perfect _sang froid_; he seemed to be the only person in the household to whom the wounded man´s condition was a matter of indifference.