We had reached the smoking-room by this time, just as the gong was beginning to sound for luncheon, and under cover of the noise Charles fitted the key into the key-hole and unlocked the door. He and Marston went slowly in, talking on some indifferent subject, and I followed. CHAPTER X The room seemed strangely quiet after the stormy interview in the sick-chamber which we had just left. The pale winter sunlight was stealing in aslant through the low windows. The fire had sunk to a deep red glow, and in an arm-chair drawn up in front of it, newspaper in hand, was Carr, evidently fast asleep. "'Oh, my prophetic soul!'" whispered Charles, nudging Marston; and then he went forward and shouted "Luncheon!" in a voice that would have waked the dead. Carr started up and rubbed his eyes. "Why, I believe you have been here ever since I left you here, hours ago," said Charles, in a surprised tone, though really, under the circumstances, it did not require a great stretch of the imagination to suppose any such thing. "Yes," said Carr, still rubbing his eyes. "Have you been gone long? I expect I fell asleep." "I rather thought you were inclined for a nap when I left you," replied Charles, airily; "and now let us go to luncheon." It was a very dismal meal. Lady Mary did not come down to it, and Aurelia sat with red eyes, tearful and silent. Ralph was evidently out of favor, for she hardly spoke to him, and snubbed him decidedly when he humbly tendered a peace-offering in the form of a potato. Evelyn, too, was silent, or made spasmodic attempts at conversation with Mrs. Marston, the only unconstrained person of the party. Evelyn and Aurelia had appeared together, and it was evident from Evelyn's expression that Aurelia had told her. What conversation there was turned upon Sir George's illness. "We must go by the afternoon train, my dear," said Marston down the table to his wife. "In Sir George's present state _all_ visitors are an incubus." Carr looked up. "I think I ought to go, too," he said. "I wished to arrange to do so this morning, but Mr. Danvers," glancing at Charles, "would not hear of it. I am sure, when there is illness in a house, strangers are always in the way." "I have seen my father since then," replied Charles, "and I fear his illness is much more serious than I had any idea of. That being the case, I feel it would be wrong to press any one, even Middleton, to stay and share the tedium of a sick-house."